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LETTERS FROM A
LIVING DEAD MAN

' Br ELSA BARKER

THE SON OF MARY BETHEL

THE FROZEN GRAIL

THE BOOK OF LOVE

THE SONG OF tAVITRI

STORIES OF THE NEW TESTAMENT

FOR CHILDREN
THE SCAB
LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

LETTERS

FROM A

LIVING DEAD MAN

WRITTEN DOWN

ELSA BARKER

WITH JN INTRODUCTION

NEW YORK

MITCHELL KENNERLEY

1914

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CONTENTS

iKTRODucnosr 5

I. The Retubk 15

II. Teix No Mak 16

III. GUABDIXO THE DOOB 18

IV. A Cloud ok the Mibbob 19

V. The Promise of Things Uktoxd 91

VI. The Wand op Will 99

VII. A Light behind the Veil 91

VIII. The Iron Grip op Matter • 96

IX. Where Sottls go up and down . 99

X. A Rendezvous in the Fourth Dhonsiok SO

XI. The Boy — Lionel S5

XII. The Pattern World 40

XIII. Forms Real and Unreal • 44

XIV. A Folio of Paracelsus 47
XV. A Roman Toga 51

XVI. A Thing to be forgotten 56

XVII. The Second Wife over therb 64

XVIII. Individual Hells 70

XIX. A Little Home in Heaven 71

XX. The Man who found Goo 78

XXI. The Leisure of the Soul 84

XXII. The Serpent of Eternitt 90

XXIII. A Brief for the Defendant 97

XXIV. Forbidden Knowledge 101

CONTENTS

VAGB

XXV. A Shadowless Woru> 104

XXVI. Circles ik the Sanb 109

XXVII. The Magic Ring 115

XXVIII. Except te be as Littli Chujmox 1^1

XXIX. Ak Unexpected Waenixtg 126

XXX. The Stlph and the Magician 131

XXXI. A Problem in Celestial Mathematics 139

XXXII. A Change of Foctts 147

XXXIII. Five Resolutions 153

XXXIV. The Passing of Lionel 158
XXXV. The Beautipul Being 167

XXXVI. The Hollow Sphere 173

XXXVII. An Emptt China Cup 179

XXXVIII. Where Tims is not . 187

XXXIX. The Doctrine of Death 195

XL. The Celestial Hierarchy S05

XLI. The Darling of the Unseen 310

XLII. A Victim of the Non-existent S19

XLIII. A Cloud of Witnbbses S98

XLIV. The Kingdom Within 235

XLV. The Game of Maxe-believi ^7

XL VI. Heuss of Hermes 2^1

XLVIL Only a Song 347

XL VIII. Invisible Gifts at YuLEnmi ' 250

XLIX. The Greater Dreamland 358

L. A Sermon and a Promise 265

LI. The April of the World 373

LII. A Happy Widower 376

LIII. The Archives of the Soul - ^ 384

LIV. A Formula vm Maskership 388

INTRODUCTION

ONE night last year in Paris I was strongly
impelled to take up a pencil and write,
though what I was to write about I had no idea.
Yielding to the impulse, my hand was seized as if
from the outside, and a remarkable message of a
personal nature came, followed by the signature

The purport of the message was clear, but the
signature puzzled me.

The following day I showed this writing to a
friend, asking her if she had any idea who "X"
was.

"Why," she replied, "don't you know that that
is what we always call Mr. ?"

I did not know.

Now, Mr. was six thousand miles from

Paris, and, as we supposed, in the land of the liv-
ing. But a day or two later a letter came to me

from America, stating that Mr. had died in

the western part of the United States, a few days
before I received in Paris the automatic message
signed "X."

6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

So far as I know, I was the first person in
Europe to be informed of his death, and I imme-
diately called on my friend to tell her that "X"
had passed out. She did not seem surprised, and
told me that she had felt certain of it some days
before, when I had shown her the "X" letter,
though she had not said so at the time.

Naturally I was impressed by this extraor-
dinary incident.

"X" was not a spiritualist. I am not myself,
and never have been, a spiritualist, and, so far as
I can remember, only two other supposedly dis-
embodied entities had ever before written auto-
matically through my hand. This had happened
when I was in the presence of a mediumistic per-
son; but the messages were brief, and I had not
attached any great importance to the phenomena.

In childhood I had several times put my hand
upon a planchette with the hand of another per-
son, and the planchette had written the usual
trivialities. On one occasion, some months before
the first "X" letter, I had put my hand upon a
planchette with the hand of a non-professional
medium, and the prophecy of a fire in my house
during a certain month in the following year was
written, supposedly by a dead friend, which
prophecy was literally verified, though the fire

INTRODUCTION 7

was not caused by my hand, nor was it in my own
apartment.

A few times, years before, I had been persuaded
by friends to go with them to professional seances,
and had seen so-called materialisations. I had
also seen independently a few appearances which
I could not account for on any other hypothesis
than that of apparitions of the dead.

But to the whole subject of communication be-
tween the two worlds I felt an unusual degree of
indifference. Spiritualism had always left me
quite cold, and I had not even read the ordinary
standard works on the subject.

Nevertheless, I had for a number of years al-
most daily seen "hypnagogic visions," often of a
startlingly prophetic character; and the explana-
tion of them later given by **X" may be the true
explanation.

Soon after my receipt of the letter from Amer-
ica stating that Mr. was dead, I was sitting

in the evening with the friend who had told me
who **X" was, and she asked me if I would not let
him write again — if he could.

I consented, more to please my friend than from
any personal interest, and the message beginning,
''I am here, make no mistake," came through my
hand. It came with breaks and pauses between

LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

the sentences, with large and badly formed letters,
but quite automatically, as in the first instance.
The force used on this occasion was such that my
right hand and arm were lame the following day.

Several letters signed "X" were automatically
written during the next few weeks; but, instead
of becoming enthusiastic, I developed a strong dis-
inclination for this manner of writing, and was
only persuaded to continue it through the argu-
ments of my friend that if "X" really wished to
communicate with the world, I was highly privi-
leged in being able to help him.

"X" was not an ordinary person. He was a
well-known lawyer nearly seventy years of age, a
profound student of philosophy, a writer of
books, a man whose pure ideals and enthusiasms
were an inspiration to everyone who knew him.
His home was far from mine, and I had seen
him only at long intervals. So far as I remem-
ber, we had never discussed the question of post-
mortem consciousness.

Gradually, as I conquered my strong preju-
dice against automatic writing, I became inter-
ested in the things which "X" told me about the
life beyond the grave. I had read practically
nothing on the subject, not even the popular Let-
ters from Julia, so I had no preconceived ideas.

INTRODUCTION 9

The messages continued to come. After a
while there was no more lameness of the hand
and arm, and the form of the writing be-
came less irregular, though it was never very
legible.

For a time the letters were written in the pres-
ence of my friend; then "X" began to come al-
ways when I was alone. He wrote either in Paris
or in London, as I went back and forth between
those two cities. Sometimes he would come sev-
eral times a week; again, nearly a month would
elapse without my feeling his presence. I never
called him, nor did I think much about him be-
tween his visits. During most of the time my
pen and my thoughts were occupied with other
matters.

Only in one instance before the writing began
had I any idea as to what the letter would con-
tain. One night as I took up the pencil I knew
what "X" was going to write about ; but, though
I remember the incident, I have forgotten to
which message it referred.

While writing these letters I was generally in
a state of semi-consciousness, so that, until I read
the message over afterwards, I had only a vague
idea of what it contained. In a few instances I
was so near unconsciousness that as I laid down

:iO LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

the pencil I had not the remotest idea of what
I had written; but this did not often happen.

When it was first suggested that these letters
should be published with an introduction by me, I
did not take very enthusiastically to the idea.
Being the author of several books, more or less
well known, I had my little vanity as to the sta-
bility of my literary reputation. I did not wish
to be known as an eccentric, a "freak." But I
consented to write an introduction stating that
the letters were automatically written in my pres-
ence, which would have been the truth, though not
all the truth. This satisfied my friend; but as
time went on, it did not satisfy me. It seemed not
quite sincere.

I argued the matter out with myself. If, I
said, I publish these letters without a personal
introduction, they will be taken for a work of
fiction, of imagination, and the remarkable state-
ments they contain will thus lose all their force
as convincing arguments for the truth of a here-
after. If I write an introduction stating that they
came by supposedly automatic writing in my pres-
ence, the question will naturally arise as to whose
hand they came through, and I shall be forced
to evasion. But if I frankly acknowledge that
they came through my own hand, and state the

INTRODUCTION 1 1

facte exacdy as they are only two hypotheses will
be open: first, that they are genuine communica-
tions from the disembodied entity; second, that
they are lucubrations of my own subconscious
mind. But this latter hypothesis does not explain
the first letter signed "X," which came before I
knew that my friend was dead; does not explain
it unless it be assumed that the subconscious mind
of each person knows everything. In which case,
why should my subconscious mind set out upon a
long and laborious deception of me, on a premise
which had not been suggested to it by my own
objective mind, or that of any other person?

That anyone would accuse me of deliberate
deceit and romancing in so serious a matter did
not then and does not now seem likely, my fancy
having other and legitimate outiets in poetry and
fiction.

The letters were probably two-thirds written
before this question was finally settled; and I de-
cided that if I published the letters at all, I should
publish them with a frank introduction, stating
the exact circumstances of their reception by me.

The actual writing covered a period of more
than eleven months. Then came the question of
editing. What should I leave out? What should
I include? I determined to leave out nothing

12 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

except personal references to "X's" private af-
fairs, to mine, and to those of his friends. I
have not added anything. Occasionally, when
"X's" literary style was clumsy, I have recon-
structed a sentence or cut out a repetition; but I
have taken far less liberty than I used, as an edi-
tor, to take with ordinary manuscripts submitted
to me for correction.

Sometimes "X" is very colloquial, sometimes
he uses legal phraseology, or American slang.
Often he jumps from one subject to another, as
one does in friendly correspondence, going back
to his original subject without a connecting
phrase.

He has made a few statements relative to the
future life which are directly contrary to the
opinions which I have always held. These state-
ments remain as they were written. Many of his
philosophical propositions were quite new to me.
Sometimes I did not see their profundity until
months afterwards.

I have no apology to offer for the publication
of these letters. They are probably an inter-
esting document, whatever their source may be,
and I give them to the world with no more fear
than when I gave my hand to "X" in the writing
of them.

INTRODUCTION I3

If anyone asks the question, What do I myself
diink as to whether these letters are genuine com*
munications from the invisible world, I should an-
swer that I believe they are. In the personal and
suppressed portions reference was often made to
past events and to possessions of which I had
no knowledge, and these references were verified.
This leaves untouched the favourite telepathic
theory of the psychologists. But if these letters
were telepathed to me, by whom were they tele-
pathed? Not by my friend who was present at
the writing of many of them, for their contents
were as much a surprise to her as to me.

I wish, however, to state that I make no scien-
tific claims about this book, for science demands
tests and proofs. Save for the first letter signed

"X" before I knew that Mr. was dead, or

knew who "X" was, the book was not written
under "test conditions,'' as the psychologists un-
derstand the term. As evidence of a soul's sur-
vival after bodily death, it must be accepted or
rejected by each individual according to his or
her temperament, experience, and inner conviction
as to the truth of its contents.

In the absence of "X" and without some other
entity on the invisible side of Nature in whom
I had a like degree of confidence, I could not pro-

14 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

duce another document of this kind. Against in-
discriminate mediumship I have still a strong and
ineradicable prejudice, for I recognise its dangers
both of obsession and deception. But for my
faith' in "X" and the faith of my Paris friend in
me, this book could never have been. Doubt of
the invisible author or of the visible medium
would probably have paralysed both, for the pur-
poses of this writing.

The effect of these letters on me personally
has been to remove entirely any fear of death
which I may ever have had, to strengthen my be-
lief in immortality, to make the life beyond the
grave as real and vital as the life here in the sun-
shine. If they can give even to one other person
the sense of exultant immortality which they have
given to me, I shall feel repaid for my labour.

To those who may feel inclined to blame me
for publishing such a book I can only say that
I have always tried to give my best to the world,
and perhaps these letters are one of the best
things that I have to g^ve.

ELSA BARKER.

London, 19 13.

LETTERS FROM A LIVING

DEAD MAN

LETTER I

THE RETURN

I AM here, make no mistake.
It was I who spoke before, and I now speak
again.

I have had a wonderful experience. Much
that I had forgotten I can now remember. What
has happened was for the best; it was inevitable.

I can see you, though not very distinctly.

I found almost no darkness. The light here
is wonderful, far more wonderful than the sun-
light of the South.

No, I cannot yet see my way very well around
Paris; everything is different It is probably by
reason of your own vitality that I am able to sec
you at this moment.

LETTER II

TELL NO MAN

I AM opposite to you now in actual space;
that is, I am directly in front of you, resting
on something which is probably a couch or divan.

It is easier to come to you after dark.

I remembered on going out that you might be
able to let me speak through your hand.

I am already stronger. It is nothing to fear
— ^this change of condition.

I cannot tell you yet how long I was silent It
did not seem long.

It was I who signed "X.*' The Teacher helped
me to make the connexion*

You had better tell no one for a while, except

, that I have come, as I do not want any

obstructions to my coming when and where I will.
Lend me your hand sometimes; I will not mis-
use it.

I am going to stay out here until I am ready to
come back with power. Watch for mc, but not
yet

TELL NO MAN 1 7

Things seem easier to me now than they have
seemed for a long time. I carry less weight. I
could have held on longer in the body, but it did
not seem worth the effort.

I have seen the Teacher. He is near. His
attitude to me is very comforting.

But I would like to go now. Good night.

LETTER III

GUARDING THE DOOR

YOU need to take certain precautions to
protect yourself against those who press
round me.

You have only to lay a spell upon yourself
night and morning. Nothing can get through that
wall — ^nothing which you forbid your soul to en-
tertain.

Do not let any of your energy be sucked out
of you by these larvas of the astral world. No,
they cannot annoy me, for I am now used to the
idea of them. You have absolutely nothing to
fear, if you protect yourself.

LETTER n^

A CLOUD ON TH£ MIRROR

{After a sentence had been half written, the
writing suddenly stopped, and was continued
later.)

WHEN you respond to my call, wipe clean
your mind as a child wipes its slate when
ready for a new maxim or example by its teacher.
Your lightest personal thought or fancy may be
as a doud upon a mirror, blurring the reflection.

You can receive letters by this means, provided
your mind does not begin to work independently,
to question in the midst of the writing.

I was not stopped this time, as before, by beings
gathering round; but by your own curiosity as
to the end of an unusual sentence. You suddenly
became positive instead of negative, as if the re-
ceiving instrument in a telegraph office should be-
gin to send a message of its own.

I have learned here the reason for many psy-
duc things which formerly puzzled me, and I am

20 3LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

determined if possible to protect you from the
danger of cross-currents in this work.

There was one night when I called and you
would not let me in. Was that kind?

But I am not reproaching you. I shall come
again and again, until my work is done.

I will come to you in a dream before long, and
will show you many things.

LETTER V

THE PROMISE OF THINGS UNTOLD

AFTER a time I will share with you certain
knowledge that I have gained since coming
out. I see the past now as through an open win-
dow. I see the road by which I have come, and
can map out the road by which I mean to go.

Everything seems easy now. I could do twice
as much work as I do— -I feel so strong.

As yet I have not settled down anywhere, but
am moving about as the fancy takes me; that is
what I always dreamed of doing while in the
body, and never could make possible.

Do not fear death; but stay on earth as long
as you can. Notwithstanding the companionship
I have here, I sometimes regret my failure in hold-
ing on to the world. But regrets have less weight
on this side — like our bodies.

Everything is well with me.

I will tell you things that have never been told.

LETTER VI

THE WAND OP WILL

NOT yet do you grasp the full mystery of
will. It can make of you anything you
choose, within the limit of your unit energy, for
everything is either active or potential in the unit
of force which is man.

The difference between a painter and a mu-
sician, or between a poet and a novelist, is not
a difference of qualities in the entity itself; for
each unit contains everything except quantity, and
thus has the possibilities of development along
any line chosen by its will. The choice may have
been made ages ago. It takes a long time, often
many lives, to evolve an art or a faculty for one
particular kind of work in preference to all
others. Concentration is the secret of power,
here as elsewhere.

As to the use of will-power in your present
everyday problems, there are two ways of using
the will. One may concentrate upon a definite
plan, and bring it into effect or not according to
the amount of force at one's disposal; or one

THE WAND OF WILL 23

may will that the best and highest and wisest
plan possible shall be demonstrated by the sub-
conscious forces in the self and in other selves.
The latter is a conunanding of all environment
for a special purpose, instead of commanding,
or attempting to command, a fragment of it.

In this communion between the outer and in-,
ner worlds, you in the outer world are apt to
think that we in ours know everything. You ex-
pect us to prophesy like fortune-tellers, and to
keep you informed of what is passing on the other
side of the globe. Sometimes we can; generally
we cannot.

After a while I may be able to enter your
mind as a Master does, and to know all the an-
tecedent thoughts and plans in it; but now I can-
not always do so.

For instance, one night I looked everjrwhere
for — and could not find him. Perhaps it is
necessary for you to think strongly of us, to make
the way easiest.

I am learning all the time. The Teacher is
very active in helping me.

When I am absolutely certain of my hold upon
your hand, I shall have much to say about the
life out here.

LETTER VII

A LIGHT BEHIND THE VEIL

MAKE an opening for me sometimes in the
veil of dense matter that shuts you from
my eyes. I see you often as a spot of vivid light,
and that is probably when your soul is active with
feeling or your mind keen with thought.

I can read your thoughts occasionally, but not
always. Often I try to draw near, and cannot
find you. You could not always find me, perhaps,
should you come out here.

Sometimes I am all alone : sometimes I am
with others.

Strange, but I seem to myself to have quite a
substantial body now, though at first my arms and
legs seemed sprawling in all directions.

As a rule, I do not walk about as formerly, nor
do I fly exactly, for I have never had wings ; but
I manage to get over space with incredible rapid-
ity. Sometimes, though, I walk.

Now, I want you to do me a favour. You know
what a difficult job I often had to keep things

A LIGHT BEHIND THE VEIL 2$

going, yet I kept them going. Don't you get dis-
couraged about the material wherewithal for your
work. Work right ahead, as if the supply were
there, and it will be there. You can demonstrate
it in one way or another. Do not feel weak or
uncertain, for when you do you drag me back to
earth by force of sympathy. It is as bad as griev-
ing for the; dead.

LETTER VIII

THE IRON GRIP OF MATTER

TO a man dwelling in the "invisible" there
comes a sudden memory of earth.

"Oh 1" he says. "The world is going on with-
out me. What am I missing?"

It seems almost an impertinence on the part
of the world to go on without him. He becomes
agitated. He is sure that he is behind the times,
left out, left over.

He looks about him, and sees only the tran-
quil fields of the fourth dimension. Oh, for the
iron grip of matter once morel To hold some-
thing in taut hands I

Perhaps the mood passes, but one day it re-
turns with redoubled force. He must get out of
the tenuous environment into the forcibly re-
sistant world of dense matter. But how?

Ah, he remembers I All action comes from
memory. It would be a reckless experiment had
he not done it before.

He closes his eyes, reversing himself in the in-

THE IRON GRIP OF MATTER 2J

visible. He is drawn to human life, to human
beings in the intense vibration of union. There
is sympathy here — ^perhaps the sjrmpathy of past
experience with the souls of those whom he now
contacts, perhaps only sjrmpathy of mood or im-
agination. Be that as it may, he lets go his hold
upon freedom and triumphantly loses himself in
the lives of human beings.

After a time he awakes, to look with bewil-
dered eyes upon green fields and the round, solid
faces of men and women. Sometimes he weeps,
and wishes himself back. If he becomes dis-
couraged, he may return— only to begin the weary
quest of matter all over again.

If he is strong and stubborn, he remains and
grows into a man. He may even persuade him-
self that the former life in tenuous substance was
only a dream, for in dream he returns to it, and
the dream haunts him and spoils his enjojrment of
matter.

After years enough he grows weary of the ma-
terial struggle : his energy is exhausted. He sinks
back into the arms of the unseen, and men say
again with bated breath that he is dead.

But he is not dead. He has only returned
whence he came.

LETTER IX

WHERE SOULS GO UP AND DOWN

MY friend, there is nothing to fear in death.
It is no harder than a trip to a foreign
country — the first trip — ^to one who has grown
oldish and settled in the habits of his own more or
less narrow corner of the world.

When a man comes out here, the strangers
whom he meets seem no more strange than the
foreign peoples seem to one who first goes among
them. He does not always understand them;
there, again, his experience is like a sojourn in a
foreign country. Then, after a while, he begins
to make friendly advances and to smile with the
eyes. The question, "Where are you from?"
meets with a similar response to that on earth.
One is from California, another is from Boston,
another is from London. This is when we meet
on the highroads of travel; for there are lanes
of travel over here, where the souls go up and
down as on the earth. Such a road is generally
the most direct line between two great centres;

WHERE SOULS GO UP AND DOWN 2^

but it is never on the line of a railway. There
would be too much noise. We can hear sounds
made on the eartlu There is a certain shock to
the etheric ear which carries the vibration of
sound to us.

Sometimes one settles down for a long time
in one place. I visited an old home in the State
of Maine, where a man on this side of life had
been stopping for I do not know how many years ;
he told me that the children had grown to be
men and women, and that a colt to which he be-
came attached when he first came out had grown
into a horse and had died of old age.

There are sluggards and dull people here, as
with you. There are also brilliant and magnetic
people, whose very presence is rejuvenating.

It seems almost absurd to say that we wear
clothes, the same as you do ; but we do not seem
to need so many. I have not seen any trunks;
but then I have been here only a short time.

Heat and cold do not matter much to me now,
though I remember at first being rather uncom-
fortable by reason of the cold. But that is past.

LETTER X

A RENDEZVOUS IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION

YOU can do so much for me by lending me
your hand occasionally, that I wonder why
jrou shrink from it.

This philosophy will go on being taught in
the world and all over the world. Only a few,
perhaps, ^11 reach the deeps of it in this life;
but a seed sown to-day may bear fruit long hence.
Somewhere I have read that grains of wheat
which had been buried with mummies for two or
three thousand years had sprouted when placed
in good soil in our own day. It is so with a philo-
sophic seed.

It has been said that he is a fool who works
for philosophy instead of making philosophy
work for him ; but a man cannot give to the world
even a little of a true philosophy without reaping
sevenfold himself, and you know the Biblical quo-
tation which ends, ''and in the world to come eter-
nal life.'* To get, one must ^ve. That is the
Law.

'A RENDEZVOUS IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION 3 1

I can tell you many things about the life out
here which may be of use to others when they
make the great change. Almost everyone brings
memory over mth him. The men and women I
have met and communed with have had more or
less vivid recollection of their earth life — ^that
is, most of them.

I met one man who refused to speak of the
earth, and was always talking about ''going on.*'
I reminded him that if he went on far enough
he would come back to the place from which he
started.

You have been curious, perhaps, as to what
we eat and drink, if anything. We certainly are
nourished, and we seem to absorb much water.
You also should drink plenty of water. It feeds
the astral body. I do not think that a very dry
body would ever have enough astral vitality to
lend a hand to a soul on this plane of life, as you
are doing now. There is much moisture in our
bodies over here. Perhaps that is one reason
why contact with a so-called spirit sometimes
gives warm-blooded persons a sense of cold, and
they shiver.

It is something of an effort on my part also
to write like this, but it seems to be worth while.

I come to the place where I feel that you ire.

32 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

I can see you better than most others. Then I
reverse; that is^ instead of going in, as I used
to dOf I go out with great force and in your di-
rection. I take possession of you by a strong
propulsive effort.

Sometimes the writing has stopped suddenly
in the midst of a sentence. That was when I
was not properly focussed^ You may have no-
ticed when reversing and shutting away the out-
side world, that a sudden noise, or maybe a wan*
dering thought, would bring you right out again.
It is so here.

Now, about this element in which we live. It
undoubtedly has a place in space, for it is all
around the earth. Yes, every tree visible has
its invisible counterpart* When you, before
sleep, come out consciously into this world,^ you
see things that exist, or have existed, in the ma-
terial world also. You cannot see anj^hing in
this world which has not a physical counterpart
in the other. There are, of course, thought-
pictures, imaginary pictures; but to see imagina-
tively is not to see on the astral plane — ^not by any
means. The things you see before going to sleep
have real existence, and by changing your rate
of vibration you come out into this world*— or

^ Thi» imdoobtedly reftrB to my '"hypAagoigfic^ vIe^oim^^Ed.

A RENDEZVOUS IN THE FOURTH DIMENSION 35

rather you go back into it, for you have to go in«
in order to come out.

Imagination has great powen If you make
a picture in the mind, the vibrations of the body
may adjust to it if the will is directed that way,
as in thoughts of health or sickness.

It might be well as an experiment, when you
want to come out here, to choose a certain sym-
bol and hold it before your eyes. I do not say
that it would help to change the ^bration, but
it might.

I wonder if you could see me if just before
falling asleep you should come out here with
that thought and that desire dominant in your
mind ?

I am strong to-day, because I have been long
with one who is stronger; and if you want to
make the experiment of trying to find me this
night, I may be able to help you better than at
another time.

There is so much to say, and I can seldom talk
with you. If you were differently situated and
quite free from other things, I could perhaps
come often. I am learning much that I should
like to give you.

For instance, I think I can show you how to

34 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

come out here at will, as the Masters do con-
stantly.

At first I took only your arm to write with,
but now I get a better hold of the psychic or-
ganisation. I saw that I was not working in the
best way, that there was a waste somewhere, so
I asked the Teacher for instruction in the mat-
ter. By this new method you will not feel so
tired afterwards, nor shall I.

I am going now, and will try to meet you in
a few minutes. If the experiment should fail,
do not be discouraged ; but try again some other
time* You will know me all right, if you do
see me.

LETTER XI

THE BOY — LIONEL

YOU will be interested to know that there
are people out here, as on the earth, who
devote themselves to the welfare of others.

There is even a large organisation of souls
who call themselves a League. Their special
work is to take hold of those who have just come
out, helping them to find themselves and to adjust
to the new conditions. There are both men and
women in this League. They have done good
service. They work on a little — I do not want
to say higher plane than the Salvation Army,
but rather a more intellectual plane. They help
both children and adults.

It is interesting about the children. I have
not had time yet to observe all these things for
myself; but one of the League workers tells me
that it is easier for children to adjust themselves
to the changed life than it is for grown persons.
Very old people are inclined to sleep a good deal,
while children come out with great energy, and

36 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

bring with them the same curiosity that they had
in earth life. There are no violent changes. The
little ones grow up, it is said, about as gradually
and imperceptibly as they would have grown on
earth. The tendency is to fulfil the normal
rhythm, though there are instances where the soul
goes back very soon, with little rest. That would
be a soul with great curiosity and strong desires.

There are horrors out here — far worse than
the horrors on earth. The decay from vice and
intemperance is much worse here than there. I
have seen faces and forms that were really fright
ful, faces that seemed to be half-decayed and fall*
ing in pieces. These are the hopeless cases, which
even the League of workers I spoke about leave
to their fate. It is uncertain what the fate of
such people will be; whether they will reincar-
nate or not in this cycle, I do not know.

The children are so charming 1 One young boy
is with me often; he calls me Father, and seems
to enjoy my society. He would be, I should think,
about thirteen years old, and he has been out here
some time. He could not tell me just how long;
but I will ask him if he remembers the year, the
calendar year, in which he came out.

It is not true that we cannot keep our thoughts
to ourselves if we are careful to do so. We can

THE BOY — LIONEL 37

guard our secrets, if we know how. That is done
by suggestion, or laying a spell. It is, though,
much easier here than on earth to read the minds
of others.

We seem to communicate with one another
in about the same way that you do; but I find,
as time goes by, that I converse more and more-
by powerful and projected thought than by the
moving of the lips. At first I always opened my
mouth when I had anything to say; it is easier
now not to do so, though I sometimes do it still
by force of habit. When a man has recently
come out he does not understand another unless
he really speaks; that is, I suppose, before he has
learned that he also can talk without using much
breath.

But I was telling you about the boy. He is all
interest in regard to certain things I have told
him about the earth, — especially aeroplanes,
which were not yet very practicable when he
came out. He wants to go back and fly in an
aeroplane. I tell him that he can fly here with-
out one, but that does not seem to be the same
thing to him. He wants to get his fingers on
machinery.

I advise him not to be in any hurry about going
back. The curious thing about it is that he can

38 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

remember other and former lives of his on earth.
Many out here have no more memory of their
former lives, before the last one, than they had
while in the body. This is not a place where
everyone knows everything — far from it Most
souls are nearly as blind as they were in life.

The boy was an inventor in a prior incarnation,
and he came out this time by an accident, he says.
He should stay here a little longer, I think, to
get a stronger rhythm for a return. That is only
my idea. I am so interested in the boy that I
should like to keep him, and perhaps that influ-
ences my judgment somewhat.

You see, we are still human.

You asked me some questions, did you not?
iWill you speak them aloud ? I can hear.

Yes, I feel considerably younger than I have
felt for a long time, and I am well. At first I
felt about as I did in my illness, with times of
depression and times of freedom from depres-
sion ; but now I am all right. My body does not
g^ve me much trouble.

I believe that old people grow younger here
until they reach their prime again, and that then
they may hold that for a long time.

You see, I have not become all-wise. I have

THE BOY — LIONEL 39

been able to pick up a good deal of knowledge
which I had forgotten; but about all the details
of this life I still have much to learn.

Your curiosity will help me to study conditions
and to make inquiries, which otherwise I might
not have made for a long time, if ever. Most
people do not seem to learn much out here, ex-
cept that naturally they learn the best and easiest
way of getting on, as in earth life.

Yes, there are schools here where any who
wish for instruction can receive it — if they are
fit. But there are only a few great teachers. The
average college professor is not a being of su-
preme wisdom, whether here or there.

LETTER XII

THE PATTERN WORLD

THERE Is something I want to qualify in
what I said the other day, that there is
nothing out here which has not existed on the
earth. Since then I have learned that that state-
ment is not exactly true. There are strata here.
This I have learned recently. I still believe that
in the lowest stratum next the earth all or nearly
all that exists has existed on earth in dense mat-
ter. Go a little farther up, a little farther away
— how far I cannot say by actual measurement;
but the other night in exploring I got into the
world of patterns, the paradigms — ^if that is the
word — of things which are to be on earth. I saw
forms of things which, so far as I know, have
not existed on your planet — inventions, for ex-
ample. I saw wings that man could adjust to
himself. I saw also new forms of flying-ma-
chines. I saw model cities, and towers with
strange wing-like projections on them, of which

THE PATTERN WORID 4%

1 could not imagine the use. The progress of
mechanical Invention is evidently only begun.

Another time I will go on, farther up in that
world of pattern forms, and see if I can learn
what lies beyond it.

Bear this in mind: I merely tell you stories,
as an earthly traveller would tell, of the things
I see. Sometimes my interpretation of them may
be wrong.

When I was in the place which we will call
the pattern world, I saw almost nobody there —
only an occasional lone voyager like myself. I
naturally infer from this that but few of those
who leave the earth go up there at all. I think
from what I have seen, and from conversations
I have had with men and women souls, that most
of them do not get very far from the earth, even
out here*

It is strange, but many persons seem to be in
the regular orthodox heaven, singing in white
robes, with crowns on their heads and with harps
in their hands. There is a region which outsiders
call "the heaven country."

TTierc is also, they tell me, a fiery hell, with
at least the smell of brimstone ; but so far I have
not been there. Some day when I feel strong I

42 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

will look in, and if it is not too depressing I will
go farther — ^if they will kt me.

For the present I am looking about here and
there, and I have not studied carefully any place
as yet

I took the boy, whose name by the way is
Lionel, out with me yesterday. Perhaps we ought
to say last night, for your day is our night when
we are on your side of this great hollow sphere.
You and the solid earth are in the centre of our
sphere.

I took the boy out with me for what you would
call a walk.

First we went to the old quarter of Paris,
where I used to live in a former life ; but Lionel
could not see anything, and when I pointed out
certain buildings to him he asked me quite sin-
cerely if I were dreaming. I must have some
faculty which is not generally developed among
my fellow citizens in the astral country. So when
the boy found that Paris was only a figment of
my imagination — ^he used to live in Boston — ^I
took him to see heaven. He remarked:

*'Why, this must be the place my grandmother
used to tell me about. But where is God?"

That I could not tell him ; but, on looking againi
we saw that nearly everybody was gazing in one

THE PATTERN WORLD 43

direction. We also gazed with the others, and
saw a great light, like a sun, only it was softer
and less dazzling than the material sun.

"That," I said to the boy, "is what they see
who see God."

And now I have something strange to tell you ;
for, as we gazed at that light, slowly there took
form between us and it the figure which we are
accustomed to see represented as that of the
Christ. He smiled at the people and stretched
out His hands to them.

Then the scene changed, and He had on His
left arm a lamb; and then again He stood as if
transfigured upon a mountain; then He spoke
and taught them. We could hear His voice. And
then He vanished from our sight

LETTER XIII

FORMS REAL AND UNREAL

WHEN I first came out here I was so inter-
ested in what I saw that I did not ques-
tion much as to the manner of the seeing. But
lately — especially since writing the last letter or
two — I have begun to notice a difference between
objects that at a superficial glance seem to be of
much the same substance. For example, I
can sometimes see a difference between those
things which have existed on earth unquestion-
ably, such as the forms of men and women,
and other things which, while visualised and seem-
ingly palpable, may be, and probably are, but
thought-creations.

This idea came to me while looking on at the
dramas of the heaven country, and it was forced
upon me with greater power while making other
and recent explorations in that which I have called
the pattern world.

Later I may be able to distinguish at a glance
between these two classes of seeming objects. For

FORMS REAL AND UNREAL 45

example, if I encounter here a being, or what
seems a being, and if I am told that it is some
famous character in fiction, such as Jean Valjean
in Hugo's Les Miserables, I shall have reason to
believe that I have seen a thought-form of suf-
ficient vitality to stand alone, as a quasi-entity
in this world of tenuous matter. So far I have
not encountered any such characters.

Of course, unless I were able to hold converse
with a being, a form, or saw others do so, I could
not positively state that it had an essential ex-
istence. Hereafter I shall often put things to
the test in this way. If I can talk to a seeming
entity, and if it can answer me, I am justified in
considering it as a reality. A character in fiction,
or any other mental creation, however vivid as a
picture, would have no soul, no unit of force, no
real self. Whatever comes to me merely as a
picture I shall try to submit to this test.

If I see a peculiar form of tree or animal, and
can touch and feel it, — for the senses here are
quite as acute as those of earth, — I know that it
exists in the subtle matter of this plane.

I believe that all the beings whom I have seen
here are real ; but if I can find one that is not, —
a being which I cannot feel when I touch it and
which cannot respond to my questions, — I shall

46 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

have a datum for my hypothesis that thought-
forms of beings, as well as things, may have suf-
ficient cohesion to seem real.

It is undoubtedly true that there is no spirit
without substance, no substance without spirit,
latent or expressed; but a painting of a man may
seem at a distance to be a man.

Can there exist deliberate thought-creations
here, deliberate and purposive creations? I be-
lieve so. Such a thought-form would probably
have to be very intense in order to persist.

It seems to me that I had better settle this
question to my own satisfaction before talking
any more about it.

LETTER XIV

A FOLIO OF PARACELSUS

THE Other day I asked my Teacher to show
me the archives in which those who had
lived out here had recorded their observations,
if such existed. He said:

"You were a great reader of books when you
were on the earth. Come."

We entered a vast building like a library, and
I caught my breath in wonder. It was not the
architecture of the building which struck me, but
the quantities of books and records. There must
have been millions of them.

I asked the Teacher if all the books were here.
He smiled and said :

"Are there not enough? You can make your
choice."

I asked if the volumes were arranged by sub-
jects.

"There is an arrangement," he answered.
"What do you want?"

I said that I should like to see the books in

48 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

which were written the accounts of explorations
which other men had made in this (to me) still
slightly known country-
He smiled again, and took from a shelf a
thick volume. It was printed in large black type.^

"Who wrote this book?" I asked.

"There is a signature," he replied. .

I looked at the end and saw the signature: it
was that used by Paracelsus.

"When did he write this?"

"Soon after he came out. It was written be-
tween his Paracelsus life and his next one on
earth."

The book which I had opened was a treatise on
spirits, human, angelic, and elemental. It began
with the definition of a human spirit as a spirit
which had had the experience of life in human
form; and it defined an elemental spirit as a
spirit of more or less developed self-consciousness
which had not yet had that experience.

Then the author defined an angel as a spirit
of a high order which had not had, and probably
would not have in future, such experience in mat-
ter.

*I hope no one will expect me to answer the question why
should such a book appear to be printed in large black type,
I have no more idea than has the reader. — ^Ed.

A POLIO OF PARACELSUS 49

He went on to state that angelic spirits were
divided into two sharply defined groups, the celes-
tial and the infernal, the former being those an-
gels who worked towards harmony with the laws
of God, the latter being those angels who worked
against that harmony. But he said that both
these orders of angels were necessary, each to the
other's existence; that if all were good the uni-
verse would cease to be; that good itself would
cease to be through the failure of its opposite —
evil.

He said that in the archives of the angelic re-
gions there were cases on record where a good
angel had become bad or a bad angel had become
good, but that such cases were of rare occurrence.

He then went on to warn his fellow souls who
should be sojourning in that realm in which he
then wrote, and in which I knew myself also to
be, against holding communion with evil spirits.
He declared that in the subtler forms of life there
were more temptations than in the earth life ; that
he himself had often been assailed by malignant
angels who had urged him to join forces with
them, and that their arguments were sometimes
extremely plausible.

He said that while living on earth he had often
had conversations with spirits both good and bad;

so LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

but that while on earth he had never, so far as
he knew, held converse with an angel of a malig-
nant nature.

He advised his readers that there was one
way to determine whether a being of the subtler
world was an angel or merely a human or an
elemental spirit, and that was by the greater bril-
liancy of the light which surrounded an angel.
He said that both good and bad angels were ex-
tremely brilliant; but that there was a cUfference
between them, perceptible at the first glance at
their faces ; that the eyes of the celestial angels
were aflame with love and intellect, while the eyes
of the infernal angels were very unpleasant to en-
counter.

He said that it would be possible for an in-
fernal angel to disguise himself to a mortal^ so
that he might be mistaken for an angel of light;
but that it was practically impossible for an angel
to disguise his real nature from those souls who
were living in their subtle bodies.

I will perhaps say more on this subject another
night. I must rest now.

LETTER XV

A ROMAN TOGA

ONE thing which makes this country so In-
teresting to me is its lack of convention-
ality. No two persons are dressed in the same
way— or no, I do not mean that exactly, but many
are so eccentrically dressed that their appearance
gives variety to the whole.

My own clothes are, as a rule, similar to those
I wore on earth, though I have as an experiment,
when dwelling in thought on one of my long-past
lives, put on the garments of the period.

It is easy to get the clothes one wants here.
I do not know how I became possessed of the
garments which I wore on coming out; but when
I began to take notice of such things, I found my-
self dressed about as usual. I am not yet sure
whether I brought my clothes with me.

There are many people here in costumes of
the ancient days. I do not infer from this fact
that they have been here all those ages. I think
they we^r such clothes because they like them.

52 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

As a rule, most persons stay near the place
where they lived on earth ; but I have been a wan-
derer from the first. I go rapidly from one coun-
try to another. One night (or day with you) I
may take my rest in America; the next night I
may rest in Paris. I have spent hours of repose
on the divan in your sitting-room, and you did not
know that I was there. I doubt, though, if I could
stay for hours in your house when I was myself
awake without your sensing my presence.

Do not think, however, from what I have just
said, that it is necessary for me to rest on the
solid matter of your world. Not at all. We
can rest on the tenuous substance of our own
world.

One day, when I had been here only a short
time, I saw a woman dressed in a Greek costume,
and asked her where she got her clothes. She
replied that she had made them. I asked her
how, and she said :

"Why, first I made a pattern in my mind, and
then the thing became a garment."

"Did you take every stitch?"

"Not as I should have done on earth."

I looked closer and saw that the whole gar-
ment seemed to be in one piece, and that it was
caught on the shoulders by jewelled pins. I asked

A ROMAN TOGA 53

where she got the jewelled pins, and she said
that a friend had given them to her. Then I
asked where the friend had got them. She told
me that she did not know, but that she would
ask him. Soon after that she left me, and I have
not seen her since, so the question is still un-
answered.

I began to experiment to see if I also could
make things^ It was then that I conceived the
idea of wearing a Roman toga, but for the life
of me I could not remember what a Roman toga
looked, like.

When next I met the Teacher I told him of
my wish to wear a toga of my own making, and
he carefully showed me how to create garments
such as I desired: To fix the pattern and shape
clearly in my mind, to visualise it, and then by
power to desire to draw the subtle matter of
the thought-world round the pattern, so as ac-
tually to form the garment.

"Then," I said, "the matter of the thought-
world, as you call it, is not the same kind of mat-
ter as that of my body, for instance?"

"In the last analysis," he answered, "there is
only one kind of matter in both worlds ; but there
is a great difference in vibration and tenuity."

Now the thought-substance of which our gar-

54 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

ments are formed seems to be an extremely tenu-
ous form of matter, while our bodies seem to be
pretty solid. We do not feel at all like trans-
parent angels sitting on damp clouds. Were it
not for the quickness with which I get over space,
I should think sometimes that my body was as
solid as ever.

I can often see you, and to me you seem tenu-
ous. It is all, I suppose, the old question of ad-
justing to environment. At first I could not do
it, and had some trouble in learning to adjust the
amount of energy necessary for each particular
action. So little energy is required here to move
myself about that at first when I started to go a
short distance — say, a few yards — I would find
myself a mile away. But I am now pretty well
adjusted.

I must be storing up energy here for a good
hard life when I return to the earth again. The
hardest work I do now is to come and write
through your hand, but you offer less and less re-
sistance as time goes on. In the beginning it took
all my strength ; now it takes only a comparatively
small effort. Yet I could not do it long at a time
without using your own vitality, and that I will
not do.

You may have noticed that you are no longer

A ROMAN TOGA 55

fatigued after the writing, though you used to
be at first.

But I was speaking of the lack of convention-
ality out here. Souls hail each other when they
want to, without much ceremony. I have seen a
few old women who were afraid to talk to a
stranger, but probably they had not been here
long and the earth habits still clung to them.

Do not think, however, that society here is too
free and easy. It is not that, but men and women
do not seem to be so afraid of each other as they
were on earth.

LETTER XVI

A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN

I WANT to say a word to those who are about
to die. I want to beg them to forget their
bodies as soon as possible after the change which
they call death.

Oh, the terrible curiosity to go back and look
upon that thing which we once believed to be our-
selves 1 The thought comes to us now and then
so powerfully that it acts in a way against our
will and draws us back to it. With some it is a
morbid obsession, and many cannot get free from
it while there remains a shred of flesh on the
bones which they once leaned upon.

Tell them to forget it altogether, to force the
thought away, to go out into the other life free.
Looking back upon the past is sometimes good,
but not upon this relic of the past.

It is so easy to look into the coffin, because the
body which we wear now is itself a light in a dark
place, and it can penetrate grosser matter. I have
been back myself a few times, but am determined

A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 57

to go back no more. Yet some day the thought
may come to me again with compelling insistence
to see how it is getting on.

I do not want to shock or pain you— only to
warn you. It is sad to see the sight which inevita-
bly meets one in the grave. That may be the
reason why many souls who have not been here
long are so melancholy. They return again and
again to the place which they should not visit.

You know that out here if we think intently of
a place we are apt to find ourselves there. The
body which we use is so light that it can follow
thought almost without effort. Tell them not to
do it.

One day while walking down an avenue of trees
— for we have trees here — I met a tall woman in
a long black garment. She was weeping — for we
have tears here also. I asked her why she wept,
and she turned to me eyes of unutterable sadness.

"I have been back to it," she said.

My heart ached for her, because I knew how
she felt. The shock of the first visit is repeated
each time, as the thing one sees is less and less
what we like to think of ourselves as being.

Often I remember that tall woman in black,
walking down the avenue of trees and weeping.
It is partly curiosity that draws pqe b^ck, partly

58 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

magnetic attraction ; but it can do no good. It is
better to forget it.

I have sometimes longed, from sheer scientific
interest, to ask my boy Lionel if he had been back
to his body; but I have not asked him for fear of
putting the idea into his mind. He has such a
restless curiosity. Perhaps those who go out as
children have less of that morbid instinct than we
have.

If we could only remember in life that the form
which we call ourselves is not our real inunortal
self at all, we would not give it such an exag-
gerated importance, though we would neverthe-
less take needful care of it.

As a rule, those who say that they have been
long here do not seem old. I asked the Teacher
why, and he said that after a time an old person
forgets that he is old, that the tendency is to grow
young in thought and therefore young in appear-
ance, that the body tends to take the form which
we hold of it in our minds, that the law of rhythm
works here as elsewhere.

Children grow up out here, and they may even
go on to a sort of old age if that is the expecta-
tion of the mind; but the tendency is to keep the
prime, to go forward or back towards the best

A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 59

period, and then to hold that until the irresistible
attraction of the earth asserts itself again.

Most of the men and women here do not know
that they have lived many times in flesh. They
remember their latest life more or less vividly, but
all before that seems like a dream. One should
always keep the memory of the past as clear as
possible. It helps one to construct the future.

Those people who think of their departed
friends as being all-wise, how disappointed they
would be if they could know that the life on this
side is only an extension of the life on earth ! If
the thoughts and desires there have been only for
material pleasures, the thoughts and desires here
are likely to be the same. I have met veritable
saints since coming out; but they have been men
and women who held in earth life the saintly ideal,
and who now are free to live it.

Life can be so free herel There is none of
that machinery of living which makes people on
earth such slaves. In our world a man is held
only by his thoughts. If they are free, he is free.

Few, though, are of my philosophic spirit.
There are more saints here than philosophers, as
the highest ideal of most persons, when intensely
active, has been towards the religious rather than
the philosophic life.

6o LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

I think the happiest people I have met on this
side have been the painters. Our matter is so
light and subtle, and so easily handled, that it
falls readily into the forms of the imagination.
There are beautiful pictures here. Some of our
artists try to impress their pictures upon the men^
tal eyes of the artists of earth, and they often suc-
ceed in doing so.

There is joy in the heart of one of our real ar-
tists when a fellow craftsman on your side catches
an idea from him and puts it into execution. He
may not always be able to see clearly how well
the second man works out the idea, for it requires
a special gift or a special training to see from one
form of matter into the other; but the inspiring
spirit catches the thought in the inspired one's
mind, and knows that a conception of his own is
being executed upon the earth.

With poets it is the same. There are lovely
lyrics composed out here and impressed upon the
receptive minds of earthly poets. A poet told
me that it was easier to do that with a short lyric
than with an epic or a drama, where a long-con-
tinued effort was necessary.

It is much the same with musicians. When-
ever you go to a concert where beautiful music
is being played, there is probably all round you a

A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 6 1

crowd of music-loving spirits, drinking in the har-
monies. Music on earth is much enjoyed on this
side. It can be heard. But no sensitive spirit
likes to go near a place where bad strumming is
going on. We prefer the music of stringed in-
struments. Of all earthly things, sound reaches
most directly into this plane of life. Tell that to
the musicians.

If they could only hear our music! I did
not understand music on earth, but now my ears
are becoming adjusted. It seems sometimes as
if you must hear our music over there, as we hear
yours.

You may have wondered how I spend my time
and where I go. There is a lovely spot in the
country which I never tire of visiting. It is on
the side of a mountain, not far from my own
city. There is a little road winding round a hill,
and just above the road is a hut, a roofed enclo-
sure with the lower side open. Sometimes I stay
there for hours and listen to the rippling of the
brook which runs beside the road. The tall slen-
der trees have become like brothers to me. At
first I cannot see the material trees very clearly;
but I go into the little hut which is made of fresh
dean boards with a sweet smell, and I lie down

62 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

Qii the shelf or bunk along the wall ; then I close
my eyes and by an effort— or no, it is not what I
would call an effort, but by a sort of drifting — I
can see the beautiful place. But you must know
that this is in the night time there, and I see it by
the light of myself. That is why we travel in the
dark part of the twenty-four hours, for in the
bright sunlight we cannot see at all. Our light is
put out by the cruder light of the sun.

One night I took the boy Lionel there with me,
leaving him in the hut while I went a little dis-
tance away. Looking back, I saw the whole hut
illuminated by a lovely radiance — the radiance of
Lionel himself. The little building, which has a
peaked roof, looked like a pearl lighted from
within. It was a beautiful experience.

I then went to Lionel and told him to go in his
turn a little distance away, while I took his place
in the hut. I was curious to know if he would see
the same phenomenon when I lay there, if I could
shed such a light through dense matter — the
boards of the building. When I called him to
me afterwards and asked if he had seen anything
strange, he said:

"What a wonderful man you are, Father!
How did you make that hut seem to be on fire?**

A THING TO BE FORGOTTEN 63

Then I knew that he had seen the same thing
I had seen.

But I am tired now and can write no more.
Good night, and may you have pleasant dreams.

LETTER XVII

THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE

I AM often called upon here to decide mat-
ters for others. Many people call me simply
"the Judge"; but we bear, as a rule, the name
that we last bore on earth.

Men and women come to me to settle all sorts
of questions for them, questions of ethics, ques-
tions of expediency, even quarrels. Did you sup-
pose that no one quarrelled here? Many do.
There are even long-standing feuds among them.

The holders of different opinions on religion
are often hot in their arguments. Coming here
with the same beliefs they had on earth, and being
able to visualise their ideals and actually to ex-
perience the things they are expecting, two men
who hold opposite creeds forcibly are each more
intolerant than ever before. Each is certain that
he is right and that the other is wrong. This
stubbornness of belief is strongest with those who
have been here only a short time. After a while
they fall into a larger tolerance, living their own

THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE 6$:

lives more and more, and enjoying the world of
proofs and realisations which each soul builds for
itself.

But I want to give you an illustration of the
sort of questions on which I am asked to pass
judgment.

There are two women here who in life were
both married to one man, though not at the same
time. The first woman died, then the man mar-
ried again, and soon — not more than a year or
two after — the man and his second wife both came
out. The first wife considers herself the man's
only wife, and she follows him about everywhere.
She says that he promised to meet her in heaven.
He is more inclined to the second wife, though
he still feels affection for Wife No. i. He is
rather impatient at what he calls her unreason-
ableness. He told me one day that he would
gladly give them both up, if he could be left in
peace to carry out certain studies in which he is
interested. These were among the people I met
soon after I began to be strong myself here — ^it
was not so very long ago ; and the man has sought
my society so much that the women, in order to
be near him, have come along too.

One day they all three came to me and pro-

66 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

pounded their question— or, rather, Wife No. i
propounded It. She said :

"This man is my husband. Should not, there-
fore, this other woman go far away and leave
him altogether to me?"

I asked Wife No. 2 what she had to say. Her
answer was that she would be all alone here but
for her husband, and that as she had had him last,
he now belonged more to her than to the other.

In a flash the memory came to me of those
Sadducees who propounded a similar question to
Christ, and I quoted His answer as nearly as I
could remember it: that "when they shall rise
from the dead, they neither marry, nor are given
in marriage; but are as the angels which are in
heaven."

My answer was as much a staggerer for them
as their question had been for me, and they went
away to think about it.

When they were gone I began myself to ponder
the question. I had already observed that,
whether or not all here are as the angels in
heaven, there does seem to be a good deal of
mating and rejoining of former mates. The sex
distinction is as real here as on the earth, though,
of course, its expression is not exactly the same.
I asked myself a good many questions which per-

THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE 67

haps would never have occurred to me but for
the troubles of this interesting triad, and I
thought of the man I had somewhere read about,
who said that he never knew his own opinion of
anything until he tried to express it to somebody.

After a while the three came to me again and
said that they had been talking things over, per-
haps after the manner of angels in heaven; for
Wife No. I told me that she had decided to "let"
her husband spend a part of his time with the
other woman, if he wanted to.

Now, the man had a sweetheart, a girl sweet-
heart, before he had either of his wives. The girl
is out here somewhere, and the man often has
a strong desire to try to find her. What oppor-
tunity he will now have to do so, I cannot say.
The situation is rather depressing for the poor
fellow- It is bad enough to have one person who
insists on every minute of your society, without
having two. And I think his case is not unusual.
Perhaps the only way in which he can get free
from his two insistent companions is by going
back to the earth.

There is a way, however, by which he could
secure solitude; but he does not know of it. A
man who knows how can isolate himself here
as well as he could on earth; he can build round

68 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

himself a wall which only the eyes of a great in-
itiate can pierce, I have not told this secret to
my friend; but perhaps I shall some day, if it
seems necessary for his development that he have
a little solitude. At present it seems to me that
he will learn more from adjusting to this double
claim and trying to find the truth that lies in it.
Perhaps he may learn that really, essentially, fun-
damentally, he does not "belong" to either of
these women. The souls out here seem to belong
to themselves, and after the first few years they
get to love liberty so much that they are ready
to yield a little of their claim upon others.

This is a great place in which to grow, if one
really wants to grow; though few persons take
advantage of its possibilities. Most are content
to assimilate the experiences they had on earth.
It would be depressing to one who did not realise
that will is free, to see how souls let slip their op-
portunities here, even as they did on the moon-
guarded planet.

There are teachers here who stand ready to
help anyone who wishes their help in making real
and deep studies in the mysteries of life — the life
here, the life there, and in the remote past.

If a man understands that his recent sojourn
on earth was merely the latest of a long series

THE SECOND WIFE OVER THERE

of lives, and if he concentrates his mind towaru
recovering the memories of the distant past, he \
can recover them. Some persons may think that
the mere dropping of the veil of matter should
free the soul from all obscuration; but, as on
earth so out here, **things are not thus and so
because they ought to be, but because they are."
We draw to ourselves the experiences which
we are ready for and which we demand, and most
souls do not demand enough here, any more than
they did in life. Tell them to demand more, and
the demand will be answered.

LETTER XVIII

INDIVIDUAL HELLS

SOME time ago I told you of my intention
to visit hell ; but when I began investigations
on that line there proved to be many hells.

Each man who is not content with the ortho-
dox hell of fire and brimstone builds one out of
mind-stuff suited to his imaginative need.

I believe that men place themselves in hell,
that no God puts them there. I began looking
for a hell of fire and brimstone, and found it.
Dante must have seen the same things I saw.

But there are other and individual hells

\The writing suddenly stopped, for no appar-
ent reason, and was not continued that night.)

70:

LETTER XIX

A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN

I HAVE met a very interesting man since last
I wrote to you. He is a lover who for ten
years waited here for his love to come to him.

They said on earth that he was dead, and they
urged her to love another ; but she could not for-
get him, for every night he met her soul in
dreams, every night she came out to him here,
and sometimes she could recall on waking all that
he had said to her in sleep. She had told him
that she would not delay long in the sunshine
world, but would come out to him in the self-
lighted world.

Only a little while ago she came. He had been
long getting ready for her coming, and had built
in the substance of this world the little home he
had planned to build for her in the outer world.

He told me how one night when she came to
him in dream, she said that she would rejoin him
on the morrow, never to leave him again. He
was startled, and would almost have stayed her;

72 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

because he had died a sudden and painful death,
and he dreaded pain for her. Always he had
watched over her, warning her of danger; but
this time he felt, after the first shock of the mes-
sage was over, that she was really coming. And
he was very happy.

He had found no other love out here ; for when
one leaves the earth full of a great affection, and
when the earthly loved one does not forget, the
tie can hold for many years unweakened. You
on the earth have forgotten so much of what you
learned here that you do not realise how your
thought of us can make us happy, do not realise
how your forgetfulness of us can throw us back
entirely upon ourselves.

Often those who go farthest here, who really
grow in spirituality, are those whose loves have
forgotten them on earth; but it is sad to be for-
gotten, nevertheless.

It is a bitter power you make possible to us
when you thus throw us back upon ourselves ; and
not all souls are strong enough or aspiring enough
to make use of the lonely impetus that might help
them to scale the ladder of spiritual knowledge.

But to return to my lovers. All that day he
remained near her. He would not rest; for, as
I have told you, we generally rest a little when

A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN 73

the sun shines on the earth. All that day he re-
mained near her. He could not see her body,
for the rays of sunlight were too strong for him.
But, after hours of waiting, suddenly he felt a
hand in his, and though she was invisible to him,
yet he knew that she was here. And he spoke to
her, using such words as he would have used on
earth. She did not seem to understand. He spoke
again, and still she did not answer; but he knew
from the pressure of her hand that she realised
his presence. So hand in hand they stood there
in the darkness of the sunlight, the man able to
speak because of his long experience in this world
of subtle sounds, the woman speechless and be-
wildered, but still clinging to his hand.

When the sunshine went away he was able to
see her face, and her eyes were wide and fright-
ened; but still she seemed held to the room in
which lay the body which had been she. It was
summer, and the windows were open. He sought
to draw her away into the perfumed night which
to them was day; but she held his hand and would
not let him go.

At last he drew her away a short distance and
spoke to her again. Now she heard and an-
swered him.

"Beloved," she said, *Vhich is I? For I see

74 LETTEltS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

myself — ^I feel myself — bad^ diere also. I seem
to be in two places. Which I is really I ?"

He comforted her with loving words. He was
still afraid to caress her, for the touch of souls
is very keen, and he feared lest she should go
back into the form which seemed to be so near
them, and thus be lost to him again. But though
she had often come to him in dreams, it had not
been so vividly as this time, and he felt that she
had really passed through the great diange.

She still clung to his hand, yet seemed afraid
to go out with him— out and away from j/. He
stayed there with her all that night and all thie
next day, when the darkening sun came again, and
again he could not see her.

Once the well-meaning friends of his beloved
disturbed her body, doing those sacred offices
which seem so necessary to the living, but which
may sorely disturb the dead.

He stayed with her the second night and all
the second day. He could hear the sobs of her
grieving parents, though they could not see either
him or their daughter; but on the second night
the little dog of his love came into the room where
if lay, the room in which their two souls still
stood, and the little dog saw them and whined

A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN 75

piteously. The man could hear it, and she also
could hear it.

And now she could hear him more plainly when
he spoke to her.

"Where will they take itf she asked him.

He recalled the time when he had been held
spellbound near his own lifeless form, over which
his loved one had shed bitter tears. And he asked
her if it would not be better to come away al-
together ; but she could not, or thought she could
not.

On the third day he knew from the agitation
of his love that they were placing her body in
the coffin. After a while he felt, though he could
not see, that many other persons were in the room,
and he heard mournful music. Music can reach
from one world to another, can be heard far more
plainly than human voices, which generally can-
not be heard at all except by the trained listener.

By and by his love was sorely agitated, and
he also, through sympathy with her; and they felt
themselves going slowly — oh, so slowly 1 — ialong.
And he said to her t

"Do not be grieved. They are taking iV to
the burial; but you are safe with me." He knew
that she was much troubled.

It is not for nothing that over the house of

76 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

death there always hangs a strange hush, not to
be explained by the mere losing of the loved one.
Those who remain behind feel, though they can-
not see, the soul of the one who has gone out.
Their souls are full of sympathy for him in his
bewilderment.

The change need not be painful if one would
only remember that it has been passed through
before ; but one so easily forgets. We sometimes
call the earth the Valley of Forgetfulness.

During the days and weeks that followed this
lover remained with his loved one, ever trying to
draw her away from the earth and from it, which
had for her, as for so many, a fearsome fascina-
tion.

It is said that the souls of those who have lived
long on earth more easily detach themselves;
but this woman was still young, only about thirty,
and even with the help of her lover it was a little
time before she could get free.

But one day (or night, as you would say) he
showed her the home which he had built for her,
and it was literally a mansion in the sky. She
entered with him, and it became their home.

Sometimes he leaves her for a little while, or
she leaves him; for the joy of being together is
heightened here, as on the earth, by an occasional

A LITTLE HOME IN HEAVEN ^^

separation; but not until she was content and ac-
customed to the new life did he leave her at all.

During the first days the habit of earthly
hunger often held her, and he tried to appease it
by giving her the softer substance which we know
here. Gradually she became weaned altogether
from the earth and the habits of the earth, only
going back occasionally in a dream to her father
and mother.

Do not disregard your dreams about the dead.
They always mean something. They do not al-
ways mean what the dream would seem to sig-
nify; for the door between the two worlds is
very narrow, and thoughts are often shaken out
of place in passing through. But dreams about
the dead mean something. We can reach you in
that way.

I came to you in a dream the other night, stand-
ing behind and outside the gate of a walled gar-
den in which you were enclosed. I smiled and
beckoned you to come out to me; but I did not
wish you to come out to stay. I only meant that
you should come out in spirit; for if you come
out occasionally it is easier for me to go into your
world. \

Good night.

LETTER XX

THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD

THERE seems to be no way in which I can
better teach you about this life, so strange
to you, than by telling my experiences and conver-
sations with men and women here.

I said one night not long ago that I had met
more saints than philosophers, and I want to tell
you now about a man who seems to be a genuine
saint. Yes, there are little saints and great saints,
as there are little and great sinners.

One day I was walking on a mountain top. I
say "walking," for it seemed about the same,
though it takes but little energy to walk here.

On the mountain top I saw a man standing
alone. He was looking out and far away, but I
could not see what he was looking at. He was
abstracted and communing with himself, or with
some presence of which I was unaware.

I waited for some time. At last, drawing a
long breath — for we breathe here — ^he turned his
eyes to me and said, with a kind smile :

THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD 79

"Can I do anything for you, brother?"

I was embarrassed for a moment, feeling that
I might have intruded upon some sweet com-
munion.

"If I am not too bold in asking," I said, "would
you tell me what you were thinking as you stood
there looking into space?"

I was conscious of my presumption; but being
so determined to learn what can be known, if
sometimes I am too bold in making inquiries, I
feel that my very earnestness may win for me the
forgiveness of those I question.

This man had a beautiful beardless face and
young-looking eyes; but his garments were the
ordinary garments of one who thinks little or
nothing of his appearance. That very uncon-
sciousness of the outer form may sometimes give
it a peculiar majesty.

He looked at me in silence for a moment ; then
he said:

"I was trying to draw near to God."

"And what is God?" I asked; "and where is
God?"

He smiled. I never saw a smile like his, as
he answered:

"God is everywhere. God is.''

80 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

"What is He?" I persisted; and again he re-
peated, but with a different emphasis :

''God is."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"God ij, God is," he said.

I do not know how his meaning was conveyed
to me, perhaps by sympathy; but it suddenly
flashed into my mind that when he said, "God is,"
he expressed the completest realisation of God
which is possible to the spirit; and when he said,
^'God is," he meant me to understand that there
was no being, nothing that is, except God.

There must have been in my face a reflection
of what I felt, for the saint then said to me :

"Do you not also know that He is, and that
all that is, is He?"

"I am beginning to feel what you mean," I an-
swered, "though I doubtless feel but a little of it."

He smiled, and made no reply; but my mind
was full of questions.

"When you were on earth," I said, "did you
think much about God?"

"Always. I thought of little else. I sought
Him everywhere, but seemed only at times to get
flashes of consciousness as to what He really was.
Sometimes when praying, for I prayed much,
there would come to me suddenly the question,

THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD 8 1

*To what are you praying?' And I would an-
swer aloud, *To God, to God!' But though I
prayed to Him every day for years, only occa-
sionally did I get a flash of that true conscious-
ness of God. Finally, one day when I was alone
in the woods, there came the great revelation. It
came not In any form of words, but rather in a
wordless and formless wonder, too vast for the
limitation of thought. I fell upon the ground
and must have lost consciousness, for after a
while— how long a time I do not know — I awoke,
and got up and looked about me. Then grad-
ually I remembered the experience which had been
too big for me while I was feeling it.

"I could put into the form of words the re-
alisation which had been too much for my mor-
tality to bear, and the words I used to myself
were, *A11 that is, is God.' It seemed very sim-
ple, yet it was far from simple. *A11 that is, is
God.' That must include me and all my fellow
beings, human and animal; even the trees and
the birds and the rivers must be a part of God, if
God were all that is.

"From that moment life assumed a new mean-
ing for me. I could not see a human face with-
out remembering the revelation — ^that that hu-
man being I saw was a part of God. When my

82 I.ETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

dog looked at me, I said to him aloud, ^You are
a part of God.' When I stood beside a river and
listened to the sound of its waters, I said to my-
self, 'I am listening to the voice of God.* When
a fellow being was angry with me, I asked myself,
*In what way have I offended God?' When one
spoke lovingly to me, I said, *God is loving me
now,' and the realisation nearly took my breath
away. Life became unbelievably beautiful.

"Therefore I had been so absorbed in God,
in trying to find God, that I had not given much
thought to my fellow beings, and had even ne-
glected those nearest me; but from that day I
began to mingle with my human brethren. I
found that as more and more I sought God in
them, more and more God responded to me
through them. And life became still more won-
derful.

"Sometimes I tried to tell others what I felt,
but they did not always understand me. It was
thus I began to realise that God had purposely,
for some reason of His own, covered Himself
with veils. Was it that He might have the
pleasure of tearing them away? If so, I would
help Him all I could. So I tried to make other
men grasp the knowledge of God which I my-
self had attained. For years I taught men. At

' THE MAN WHO FOUND GOD 83

first I wanted to teach everybody; but I soon came
to see that that was impossible, and so I selected
a few who called themselves my disciples. They
did not always tell the world that they were my
disciples, because I asked them not to do so. But
I urged each of them to give to someone as much
as possible of the' knowledge that I had given to
him. And so I think that many have come to
feel a little of the wonder which was revealed to
me that day alone in the woods, when I awoke
to the knowledge that God is, God is."

Then the saint turned and left me, with all
my questions unanswered. I wanted to ask him
when and how he had left the earth, and what
work he was doing out here — ^but he was gone I

Perhaps I shall see him again some day. But
whether I do or not, he has given me something
which I in turn give to you, as he himself desired
to give it to the world.

That is all for to-night.

LETTER XXI

THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL

ONE of the joys of being here is the leisure
for dreaming and for getting acquainted
with oneself.

Of course there is plenty to do; but though I
intend to go back to the world in a few years,
I feel that there is time to get acquainted with
myself. I tried to do that on earth, more or less ;
but here there are fewer demands on me. The
mere labour of dressing and undressing is lighter,
and I do not have to earn my living now, nor
anybody else's.

You, too, could take time to loaf, if you thought
you could. You can do practically anything you
think you can do.

I purpose, for instance, in a few years not only
to pick up a general knowledge of the conditions
of this four-dimensional world, but to go back
over my other lives and assimilate what I learned
in them. I want to make a synthesis of the com-
plete experiences of my ego up to this date, and

THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL 85

to judge from that synthesis what I can do in the
future with least resistance. I believe, but am
not quite sure, that I can bring back much of this
knowledge with me when I am born again.

I shall try to tell you — or some of you — when
and about where to look for me again. Oh, don't
be startled I It will not be for some time yet. An
early date would necessitate hurry, and I do not
wish to hurry. I could probably force the com-
ing back, but that would be unwise, for I should
then come back with less power than I want. Ac-
tion and reaction being opposite and equal, and
the unit, or ego, being able to generate only so,
much energy in a given time, it is better for me
to rest In this condition of light matter until I
have accumulated energy enough to come back
with power. I shall not do, however, as many
souls do ; they stay out here until they are as tired
of this world as they formerly were tired of the
earth, and then are driven back half unconsciously
by the irresistible force of the tide of rhythm. I
want to guide that rhythm.

Since I have been here one man whom I know
has gone back to the earth. He was about ready
to go when- 1 first found him. The strange part
of it was that he himself did not understand his
condition. He complained of being tired of things

86 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

and of wanting to rest much. That was probably
a natural instinct for rest, in preparation for the
supreme effort of opening the doors of matter
again. It is easy to come out here, but it re-
quires some effort to go from this world into
yours,

I know where that soul is now, for the Teacher
told me. I had spoken to the Teacher about him,
but he already knew of his existence. It was
rather strange, for the man was one in whom I
should have fancied that the Teacher would have
taken little interest. But one never knows. Per-
haps in his next life he may really begin to study
the philosophy which they teach.

But I was speaking of the larger leisure out
here. I wish you could arrange your life so as
to have a little more leisure. I do not want you
to be lazy, but the passive conditions of the mind
are quite as valuable as the active conditions. It
is when you are passive that we can reach you.
When your mind and body are always occupied,
it is difficult to impress you with any message of
the soul. Find a little more time each day for
doing nothing at all. It is good to do nothing
sometimes; then the semi-conscious parts of your
mind can work. They can remind you that there
is an inner life ; for the inner life that is "capable**

THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL 87

to you on earth is really the point of contact with
the world in which we live.

I have said that the two worlds touch, and they
touch through the inner. You go in to come out. ^
It is a paradox, and paradoxes conceal great!
truths. Contradictions are not truths, but a para-
dox is not a contradiction.

There is a great difference in the length of
time that people stay out here. You talk of be-
ing homesick. There are souls here who are
homesidc for the earth. They sometimes go back
almost at once, which is generally a mistake. Un-
less one is young and still has a store of unused
energy saved over from the last life, in going
back to the earth too soon one lacks the force of a
strong rebound.

It is strange to see a man here as homesick for
the earth as certain poets and dreamers on earth
are homesick for the inner life.

This use of the terms "outer" and "inner" may
seem confusing; but you must remember that while
you go in to come to us, we go out to come to
you. In our normal state here we are living al-
most a subjective life. We become more and
more objective as we touch your world. You be-
come more and more subjective as you touch our
world. If you only knew it, you could come to

88 XETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

US at almost any time for a brief visit — I mean,
by going deep enough into yourself.

If you want to try the experiment and mil not
be afraid, I can take you out here without your
quite losing consciousness in your body — I mean
without your being in deep sleep. You can call
me when you want to make a trial. If I do not
come at once, do not be discouraged. Of course
at the moment I might be doing something else;
but in that case I will come at another time.

There is no hurry. That is what I want to
impress upon you. What you do not do this
year you can perhaps do next year; but if you are
always rushing after things, you can accomplish
little in this particular work. Eternity is long
enough for the full development of the ego of
man. Eternity seems to have been designed for
that end. That was a sound statement which
was given at one time: "The object of life is life."
I have realised that more fully since I had an op-
portunity to study eternity from a new angle.
This is a very good angle from which to view
both time and eternity. I see now what I did not
see before, that I myself have never wasted any
time. Even my failures were a valuable part of
my experience. We lose to gain again. We go in
and out of power sometimes as we go in and out

THE LEISURE OF THE SOUL 89

of life, to learn what is there and outside. In this,
as in all things, the object of life is life.

Do not hurry. A man may grow gradually
into power and knowledge, or he may take them
by force. Will is free. But the gradual growth
has a less powerful reaction.

LETTER XXII

THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY

I WANT to talk to you to-night about eter-
nity. Until I came out, I never had a grasp
on that problem. I thought only in terms of
months and years and centuries; now I see the
full sweep of the circle. The comings out and
the goings into matter are no more than the sys-
tole and the diastole of the ego-heart; and, speak-
ing from the standpoint of eternity, they are rela-
tively as brief. To you a lifetime is a long time.
It used to seem so to me, but it does not seem so
now.

People are always saying, "If I had my life
to live over, I would do so and so." Now, no
man has any particular life to live over, any more
than the heart can go back and beat over again
the beat of the second previous; but every man
has his next life to prepare for. Suppose you
have made a botch of your existence. Most men
have, viewed from the standpoint of their highest
ideal; but every man who can think must have

THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY 9 1

assimilated some experience which he can carry
over with him. He may not, on coming out into
the sunlight of another life on earth, be able to
remember the details of his former experience,
though some men can recall them by a sufficient
training and a fixed will ; but the tendencies of any
given life, the unexplained impulses and desires,
are in nearly all cases brought over.

You should get away from the mental habit of
regarding your present life as the only one, get
rid of the idea that the life you expect to lead on
this side, after your death, is to be an endless
existence in one state. You could no more endure
such an endless existence in the subtle matter of
the inner world than you could, endure to live for-
ever in the gross matter in which you are now
encased. You would weary of it. You could not
support it.

Do get this idea of rhythm into your brain. All
beings are subject to the law of rhythm, even the
gods, — ^though in a greater way than ourselves,
with longer periods of flux and reflux.

I did not want to leave the earth, I fought
against it until the last; but now I see that my
coming out was inevitable because of the condi-
tions. Had I begun earlier I might have pro-
visioned my craft for a longer cruise; but when

92 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

the coal and water had run out I had to make
port.

It is possible to provision even a small life-
craft for a longer voyage than the allotted three-
score years and ten ; but one must economise the
coal and not waste the water. There are some
who will understand that water is the fluid of life.

Many persons resent the idea that the life after
death is not eternal, a never-ending progression
in spiritual realms; though few who so object
have much of an idea what they mean when they
talk of spiritual realms.

Life everlasting is possible to all souls — yes;
but it is not possible to go on forever in one direc-
tion. Evolution is a curve. Eternity is a circle, a
serpent that swallows its own tail. Until you are
willing to go in and out of dense matter, you will
never learn to transcend matter. There are those
who can stay in or out at will, and, relatively
speaking, as long as they choose; but they are
never those who shrink from either form of life.

I used to shrink from what I called death.
There are those on this side who shrink from
what they call death. Do you know what they
call death? It is rebirth into the world. Yes,
even so.

There are many here who are as ignorant of

THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY 93

rhythm as most people are on your side. I have
met men and women who did not even know that
they would go back to the earth again, who
talked of the "great change'* as the men of earth
talk of dying, and of all that lay beyond as "un-
proved and unprovable." It would be tragic if
it were not so absurd.

When I knew that I had to die I determined
to carry with me memory, philosophy, and rea-
son.

Now I want to say something which will per-
haps surprise you. There is a man who wrote a
book called The Law of Psychic Phenomena^ and
in that book he said certain things of those two
parts of the mind which he called the subjective
and the objective. He said that the subjective
miri^ was incapable of inductive reasoning, that
the sidfjective mind would accept any premise
given it by the objective mind, and would reason
from that premise with matchless logic; but that
it could not go behind the premise, that it could
not reason backwards.

Now, remember that in this form of matter
where I am men are living principally a sub-
jective life, as men on earth live principally an ob-
jective life. These people here, being in the sub-
jective, reason from the premises already given

94 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

them during their objective or earth existence.
That is why most of those who last lived in the
so-called Western lands, where the idea of rhythm
or rebirth is unpopular, came out here with the
fixed idea that they would not go back into earth
life. Hence most of them still reason from that
premise.

Do you not understand that what you believe
you are going to be out here is largely determina-
tive of what you mil be. Those who do not believe
in rebirth cannot forever escape the rhythm of
rebirth; but they hold to their belief until the
tide of rhythm sweeps them along with it and
forces them into gross matter again, into which
they go quite unprepared, carrjang with them
almost no memory of their life out here. They
carried out here the memory of the earth life be-
cause they expected so to carry it.

Many Orientals who have always believed in
rebirth remember their former lives, because
they expected to remember them.

Yes, when I realised that I had to leave the^
earth I laid a spell upon myself. I determined
to remember through both the going out and the
subsequent coming in. Of course I cannot swear
now to remember everything when I come into
heavy matter again ; but I am determined to do so

THE SERPENT OF ETERNITY 95

if possible ; and I shall succeed to some extent if
I do not get the wrong mother. I intend to take
great care on that point, and to choose a mother
who is familiar with the idea of rebirth. If pos-
sible, I want to choose a mother who actually

knew me in my last life as , and who, if I

shall announce in childhood that I am that same

whom she knew when a young ^rl, will not

chide me and drive me back into myself with her
doubts.

I believe that many children carry over into
earth life memories of their lives out here, but
that those memories are afterwards lost by rea-
son of the suggestion constantly g^ven to children
that they are newly created, "fresh from the hand
of God," etc., etc.

Eternity is indeed long, and there are more
things on earth and heaven than are dreamed of
in the philosophy of the average teacher of chil-
dren.

If you could only get hold of the idea of im-
mortal life and cling to it! If you could realise
yourself as being without beginning and without
end, then you might commence to do things worth
while. It is a wonderful consciousness that con-
sciousness of eternity. Small troubles seem in-
deed small to him who thinks of himself in the

gS LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

terms of a million years. You may make the
figure a billion, or whatever you like, but the idea
is the same. No man can grasp the idea of a
million years, or a million dollars, or a million of
anything; the figure is merely a symbol for a great
quantity, whether it be years or gold pieces. The
idea cannot be fixed; there will always be some-
thing that escapes. No millionaire knows exactly
what he is worth at any given time ; for there is
always interest to be counted, and the value is a
shifting one. It is so with immortality. Do not
think of yourself as having lived a million years,
or a trillion years, but as truly immortal, without
beginning or end. The man who knows himself
to be rich is richer than the man who says that
he has a certain amount of money, be the amount
large or small. So rest in the consciousness of
eternity and work in the consciousness of eternity.
That is all for to-night.

LETTER XXIII

A BRIEF FOR THE DEFENDANT

TELL the friend who is so anxious lest I do
you harm by writing with your hand that
that matter was thoroughly threshed out on this
side between the Teacher and me before it began
to take form on your side.

Ordinary mediumship, where the organism of
a more or less unhealthy person on earth is opened
indiscriminately for the entrance and obsession of
any passing spirit, good or evil, is a very different
proposition from this. Here I, who was your
friend in the world, having passed beyond, reach
back to instruct you from my greater knowledge
on this side.

I am not making any opening in your nervous
system through which irresponsible and evil forces
can enter and take possession of you. In fact, if
any spirit, good or bad, should make such an at-
tempt, he would have to reckon with me, and I
am not powerless. I know now, have both re-
membered and been taught, secrets by which I can
protect you from what is generally known as me-

98 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

diumship. Furthermore, I advise you nevier, even
at the urgent prayer of those whose loved ones
have gone out — never to lend yourself to them.
The wanderers in the so-called invisible world
have no right to come and demand entrance
through your organism, merely because it is so
constituted that they could enter, any more than a
street crowd would have the right to force its way
into your home, merely because its members were
curious, hungry, or cold. Do not allow it. Per-
mission was once given, yes ; but the case was ex-
ceptional and was not based on the personal de-
sire or curiosity of anybody — ^not even yourself.
I doubt if permission will ever be granted again.

Many things have changed since I began to
write with you. At first I used your hand and
arm from the outside — sometimes, as you re-
member, with such force as to make them lame
the next day. Then, grown more familiar with
the means at my disposal, I tried another method,
and you noticed a change in the character of the
writing. It began clumsily, with large and badly
formed characters, gradually becoming clearer as
my control of the instrument I was using was bet-
ter established.

Now, for the last few times I have used still
another and a third method. I enter your mindy

A BRIEF FOR THE DEFENDANT 99

putting myself in absolute telepathic rapport with
your mind, impressing upon your mind itself the
things I wish to say. In order to write in this
way, you have to make yourself utterly passive,
stilling all individual thought and yielding your-
self to my thought; but that is no more than you
do every day in reading a fascinating book. You
give your mind to the author who leads you along,
rapt and passive, by means of the printed page.

These experiments in perfecting a way of com-
munication have been very interesting to me.

Tell your friend that I am not a child, nor a
reckless experimentalist. Not only in my last life
on earth but in many former lives I have been a
student of the higher science, giving myself abso-
lutely to truth and to the quest of truth. I have
never wantonly used any human being to his or
her detriment, and I certainly shall not begin with
you, my true friend and student.

Nor shall I interfere in any way with your life,
or with your studies and work. The idea is non-
sensical. While I walked the world on two feet
I was never considered a dangerous man. I have
not changed my character merely by changing my
clothes and putting on a lighter suit.

I have certain things to say to the world. At
present you are the only person who can act as

^^^v

100 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

amanuensis for me. This is neither my fault nor
yours. The question before us is not whether I
want the letters written, or even whether you
want to write them, but whether they will be bene-
ficial to the world. I think they will. You think

they may be. B thinks that they are not

only immensely valuable, but unique. So-and-so
and So-and-so have doubts and fears. I cannot

help that, nor can you.

Bless their hearts I Why should they be so
anxious to bolt the doors behind me ? I shall cer-
tainly not try to run their affairs for them from
this side. They are equal to their job, or they
would not be able to hold it. But this is quite a
different job which I have given mjrself, and you
have kindly consented to help me.

You may not get much reward for your labour,
save the shake of the wiseacres' heads and their
superior smiles, and the suggestion of the more
scientifically inclined that I am your own **sub-
consdous mind/' I shall not be offended by that
hypothesis, nor need you.

Of course you are not worried, for if you were
I could not write. Your mind has to be placid as
a lake on a windless night in order for me to
write at all.

Give my love to them.

LETTER XXIV

FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE

I HAVE been doing many things of late. You
could never imagine where I went the other
day — ^to the great funeral of the Emperor of
Japan. You could not go from Paris to Japan
and return in so short a time, could you ? But I
did.

An hour before starting I did not even know
that the Emperor of Japan was dead. The
Teacher sought me out and invited me to go with
him. He said that something would occur there
which I ought to see.

His prophecy was verified. I -saw a soul, a
great soul, go out as a suicide. It was sad and
terrible.

But as I write this the Teacher comes and
stands beside me; he advises me to say no more
on that subject.

One sees horrible things out here, as well as
beautiful things. I can only say with regard to

lOI

I02 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

suicide, that if men knew what awaits those who
go out by their own hand, they would remain with
the evil that they know. I am sorry I cannot tell
you more about this, for it would interest you.
The testimony of an eye-witness is always more
convincing than the mere repetition of theories.

The appearance of the Teacher with his advice
has put out of my mind for the moment the desire
to write. But I will come again.

Later.

I have been able to do what you so much de-
sired — to find the boy who came out accidentally
by drowning. ^

As you looked at his photograph, I saw it
through your eyes, and carried away the memory
of the face. I found him wandering about, quite
bewildered. When I spoke to him of you and
said that you had asked me to help him, he seemed
surprised.

I was able to give him a little aid, though he
has a friend here — an old man who is nearer to
him than I could ever be. He will gradually ad-
just himself to the new conditions.

You had better not try to speak with him. He
is on a dififerent path, and is being looked after,
for he has friends. The little help I was able to

FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE IO3

give was in the nature of information. He needed
diversion from a too-pressing thought, and I sug-
gested one or two ways of passing time which are
both agreeable and instructive.

You wonder at the expression ''passing time" ?
But time exists out here. Wherever there is se-
quence, there is time. There may come a "time*'
when all things will exist simultaneously, past,
present and — shall we say future? But so long
as past, present and future are more or less dis-
tinct, so long time is. It is nothing but the prin-
ciple of sequence. Did you fancy it was anything
else?

Interiorly, that is, deep within the self, one may
find a silent place where all things seem to exist in
unison; but as soon as the soul even there at-
tempts to examine things separately, then sequence
begins.

The union with the All is another matter. That
is, or seems to be, timeless; but as soon as one
attempts to unite with or to be conscious of things,
time is manifest.

LETTER XXV

A SHADOWLESS WORLD

I HAD been here some time before I noticed
one of the most marked peculiarities of this
world.

One night as I was passing slowly along, I saw
a group of persons approaching me. It was very
light where they were, because there were so many
of them. Suddenly, as I saw this light, a thought
came to my mind, a saying from one of the Her-
metic books : "Where the light is strongest, there
are the shadows deepest." But on looking at
these men and women, I saw that they cast no
shadows.

I hailed the nearest man — ^you must remember
that this was soon after I came out, and when I
was still more ignorant than I am now — and I
called his attention to this peculiar phenomenon
of a shadowless yet brilliantly lighted world. He
smiled at my surprise, and said :

"You have not been here long, have you?'*

104

A SHADOWLESS WORLD IO5

"No."

"Then you arc not aware that we light our own
place? The substance of which our bodies are
composed is radiant. How could our forms cast
shadows, when light radiates from them in all
directions ?"

"And in the sunlight?" I asked.

"Oh," he answered, "you know that in the sun-
light we cannot be seen at all I The light of the
sun is coarse and crude, and it puts out the light
of the spirits."

Does it seem strange to you that at this moment
I can feel the warmth of that wood fire by which
you sit? There is a magic in burning wood. The
combustion of cOal has quite a different effect upon
the psychic atmosphere. If one who had always
been blind to visions and insensible to the finer
feelings and premonitions of the invisible world
would try meditating before a blazing wood fire
for an hour or two every day or night, his eyes
and other subtler senses might be opened to things
of which he had theretofore never even dreamed.

Those Orientals who worship their God with
fire are wise and full of visions. The light of
( burning wax has also a magical effect, though dif-
ferent from that of a wood fire. Sit sometimes

I06 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

in the evening with no light but that of a solitary
candle, and see what visions will come from the
•*Void."

I have not told you an]/thing for a long time
about the boy Lionel. He is now much interested
in the idea of choosing a family of engineers in
which to be born again. The thought is one to
which he is always returning.

"Why are you in such a hurry to leave me?" I
asked him, the first time he mentioned the subject

"But I do not feel as if I should be leaving you
altogether," he replied. "I could come out to you
in dreams."

"Not at first," I told him. "You would be
prisoned and blind and deaf for a long time, and
you might not be able to come out to me here until
after I had also gone back again to the earth."

"Then why not come along with me?" he
asked. "Say, Father, why shouldn't we be bom
as twins?"

The idea was so absurd that I laughed heartily;
but Lionel could not see where the joke came in.

"There are such things as twins," he said, seri-
ously. "I knew a pair of twin brothers when I
lived in Boston."

But, when I return to earth, it is no part of my

A SHADOWLESS WORLD IO7

plan to be anybody's twin ; so I tell Lionel that if
he wants to enjoy my sodety for a time he will
have to stay quietly where he is.

"But why can't we go back together?" he still
asks, ''and be cousins or neighbours, at least?''

"Perhaps we can," I tell him, "if you do not
spoil everything by an unseemly haste."

It is strange about this boy. Out in this world
there is boundless opportunity to work in subtle
matter, opportunity to invent and experiment ; yet
he wants to get his hands on iron and steel.
Strange t

Some night I will try to bring the boy to pay
you a visit, so that you can see him — I mean just
before you fall asleep. Those are the true visions.
The ones which come in sleep are apt to be con-
fused by the jarring of the matter through which
you pass in waking. Do not forget the boy. I
have already told him how I come and write with
your hand, and he is much interested.

"Why couldn't I operate a telegraph in that
way?" he asked me; but I advised him not to
try it. He might interrupt some terrestrial mes-
sage which had been sent and paid for.

Occasionally I take him with me up to the pat-
tern world. He has a little model of his own
there with which he amuses himself while I am

I08 LETTERS PROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

examining other things. It is the model of t
wheel, and he sets it going by the electricity of his
fingers. No, it is not made of steel — ^not as you
know steel. Why, what you call steel is too
heavy! It would fall through this world so fast
that it would not even leave a rent behind it.

You must understand that the two worlds are
composed of matter not only moving at a different
rate of vibration, but charged with a different
magnetism. It is said that two solid objects can^*
not occupy the same space at the same time ; but
that law does not apply to two objects — one of
them belonging to your world and the other to
ours. As water can be hot and wet at the same
time, so a square foot of space can contain a
square foot of earthly matter and a square foot
of etheric matter.

No, do not quibble about terms. You have
no terms for the kind of matter that we use here,
because you do not know anything about it-
Lionel and his electric wheel would both be in-
visible to you if they were set down on the hearth-
rug before you at this moment. Even the magic
of that wood fire would not make them visible—-
at least, not in the daylight.

Some evening — ^but we will speak of that at
another time. I must go now.

LETTER XXVI

CIRCLES IN THE SAND

I AM just beginning to enjoy the romance of
life out here. I must always have had the
romantic temperament; but only since changing
my place have I had time and opportunity to give
rein to it. On earth there was always too much
to be done, too many duties, too many demands
on me. Here I am free.

You have no idea of the meaning of freedom
unless you can remember when you were out here
last, and I doubt if you can remember that yet.

When I say "romance" I mean the charm of
existence, the magic touch which turns the grey
face of life to rose colour. You know what I
mean.

It is wonderful to have leisure to dream and to
realise one's dream, for here the realisation goes
with the dream. Everything is so real, imagina-
tion is so potent, and the power to link things is
so great — so almost unlimited 1

109

no LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

The dreamers here are really not idle, for our
dreaming is a kind of building; and even if it
were not, we have a right to do about as we
please. We have earned our vacation. The la-
bour will come again. We shall reclothe our-
selves in gross matter and take on its burdens.

Why, it takes more energy on earth to put one
heavy foot before another heavy foot, and to pro-
pel the hundred or two-hundred pound body a
mile, than it takes here to go around the world 1
That will give you an idea of the quantity of sur-
plus energy that we have for enjoying ourselves
and for dream-building.

Perhaps on earth you work too much — more
than is really necessary. The mass of needless
things that you accumulate round you, the artifi-
cial wants that you create, the break-neck pace of
your lives to provide all these things, seem to us
absurd and rather pitiful. Your political econ-
omy is mere child's play, your governments are
cumbrous machines for doing the unnecessary,
most of your work is useless, and your lives would
be nearly futile if you did not suffer so much that
your souls learn, though unwillingly, that most of
their strivings are vain.

How I used to sweat and groan in the early
days to make my little circle in the sandl And

CIRCLES IN THE SAND III

now I see that if I had taken more time to think,
I might have recovered something of my past
knowledge, gained in other lives; and though I
still had felt obliged to draw my circle in the sand,
I might have done it with less difficulty and in
half the time.

Here, if I choose, I can spend hours in watch-
ing the changing colours of a doud. Or, better
still, I can lie on my back and remember. It is
wonderful to remember, to let the mind go back
year after year, life after life, century after cen-
tury, back and back till one finds oneself — a tur-
tle I But one can also look ahead, forward and
forward, life after life, century after century, seon
after son, till one finds oneself an archangel. The
looking back is memory; the looking forward is
creation. Of course we create our own future.
Who else could do it? We are influenced and
moved and shifted and helped or retarded by
others ; but it is we ourselves who forge the chains
every time. We tie knots that we shall have to
untie, often with labour and perplexity.

In going back over my past lives I realise the
why and the wherefore of my last one. It was,
in a way, the least satisfactory of many lives —
save one; but now I see its purpose, and that I
laid the plans for it when I was last out here. I

112 LETTERS FROM A hWlSQ DEAD MAN

even arranged to go bade to earth at a definite
time, in order to be with certain f reinda who met
me there.

But I have turned the comer now, and have be^
gun the upward march again. Already I am lay-
ing the lines for my next coming, though there is
no hurry. Bless you I I am not going back until
I have had my fill of the freedom and enjoyment
of this existence here.

Also I have much studying to do. I want to
review what I learned in those hitherto forgotten
but now remembered lives.

Do you recall how, when you went to school,
you had occasionally to review the lessons of the
preceding weeks or months? That custom is
based on a sound principle. I am now having my
review lessons. By and by, before I return to
the world, I shall review these reviews, fixing by
will, the memories which I specially wish to carry
over with me. It would be practically impossible
to carry over intact the great panorama of ex-
perience which now unrolls itself before the eyes
of my memory; but there are several fundamen-
tal things, philosophical principles and illustra**
tions, which I must not forget. Also I want to
take with me the knowledge of certain formulae
and the habit of certain practices which you

CIRCLES IN THE SAND II3

would probably call occult; by means of which,
when I am mature again in my new body, I can
call into memory this very pageant of experience
which now rolls before me whenever I will it.

No, I am not going to tell you about your own
past. You must, and can, recover it for your-
self. So can anyone who knows the difference
between memory and imagination. Yes, the dif-
ference is subtle, but as real as the difference
between yesterday and to-morrow.

I do not want you to be in any hurry about
coming out here to stay. Remain where you are
just as long as possible. Much that we do on
this side you can do almost as well while still
in the body. Of course you have to use more
energy, but that is what energy is for — ^to use.
Even when we store it, we store it for future
use. Do not forget that.

One reason why I rest much now and dream
and amuse myself is because I want to store as
much energy as possible, to come back with power.

It is well that you have taken my advice to
idle a little and to get acquainted with your own
soul. There are surprises in store for the per-
son who will deliberately set out on the quest of
his soul. The soul is not a will-o'-the-wisp; it

114 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

is a beacon light to steer by and avoid the rocks
of materialism and forgetfulness.

I have had much joy in going back over my
Greek incarnations. What concentration they
had — those Greeks I They knew much. The
waters of Lethe, for instance, — ^what a concep-
tion! — ^brought from this side by masterly mem-
ory.

If man would even try to remember, if he
would only take time to consider all that he has
been, there would be more hope of what he may
become I Why, do you know that man may be-
come a god — or that which, compared with ordi-
nary humanity, has all the magnitude and gran-
deur of a god? ^Te are gods," was not said in
a merely figurative sense.

I have met the Master from Galilee, and have
held communion with Him. There was a man
— and a god I The world has need of Him
now.

LETTER XXVII

THE MAGIC RING

IT would be hard for you to understand, merely
by my telling you, the difference between
your life and ours. Begin with the difference
in substance, not only the substance of our bodies,
but the substance of natural objects which sur-
round us.

Do you start at the term "natural objects"
as applied to the things of this world? You did
not fancy, did you, that we had escaped Nature ?
No one escapes Nature — ^not even God. Nature
is.

Imagine that you had spent sixty or seventy
years in a heavy earthly body, a body which in-
sisted on growing fat, and would get stiff-jointed
and rheumatic, even going on strike occasionally
to the extent of laying you up in bed for repairs
of a more or less clumsy sort. Then fancy your-
self suddenly exchanging this heavy body for a
light and elastic form. Can you imagine it? I

115

Il6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

confess that it would have been difficult for me,
even a year or two ago.

Clothed in this form, which is sufficiently ra-
diant to light its own place when its light is not
put out by the cruder light of the sun, fancy your-
self moving from place to place, from person
to person, from idea to idea. As time goes on
even the habit of demanding nourishment gradu-
ally wears off. We are no longer bothered by
hunger and thirst; though I, for instance, still
stay myself occasionally with a little nourish-
ment, an infinitesimal amount compared with the
beefsteak dinners which I used to eat.

And we are no longer harassed by the thou-
sand-and-one petty duties of the earth. Out here
we have more confidence in moods. Engagements
are seldom made — that is, binding engagements.
As a rule, though there are exceptions, desire is
mutual. I want to see and commune with a friend
at the same time when he feels a desire for my
society, and we naturally drift together. The
companionships here are very beautiful; but die
solitudes are also full of charm.

Since the first two or three months I have not
been lonesome. At first I felt like a fish out of
water, of course. Nearly everyone does; though
there are exceptions in the case of very spiritual

THE MAGIC RING II7

people who have no earthly ties or ambitions.
I had so fought the idea of "dying," that my new
state seemed at first to be the proof of my failure,
and I used to wander about under the impression
that I was going to waste much valuable time
which could have been used to better advantage
in the storm and stress of earthly living.

Of course the Teacher came to me ; but he was
too wise to carry me on his back even from the
first. He reminded me of a few principles, which
he left me to apply ; and gradually, as I got hold
of the applications, I got hold of myself. Then
also gradually the beauty and wonder of the new
condition began to dawn on me, and I saw that
instead of wasting time I was really gaining tre-
mendous experience which could be utilised later.

I have talked with many people here, people of
all stages of intellectual and moral growth, and
I am sorry to say that the person who has a clear
idea of the significance of life and its possibili-
ties for development is about as rare here as on
the earth. As I have said before, a man does
not suddenly become all-wise by changing the
texture of his body.

The vain man of earth is likely to be vain
here, though in his next life the very law of re-
action — ^if he has overdone vanity — ^may send

Il8 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

him back as a modest or even bashful person, for
a while at least, until the reaction has spent it-
self. In coming out a man brings his character
and characteristics with him.

I have often been sorry for men who in life
had been slaves of the business routine. Many
of them cannot get away from it for a long time ;
and instead of enjoying themselves here, they
go back and forth to and from the scenes of their
old labours, working over and over some problem
in tactics or finance until they are almost as weary
as when they "died.'*

As you know, there are teachers here. Few
of them are of the stature of my own Teacher;
but there are many who make it their pleasure
to help the souls of the newly arrived. They
never leave a newcomer entirely to his own re-
sources. Help is always offered, though it is
not always accepted. In that case it will be of-
fered again and again, for those who give them-
selves to others do so without hope of reward
or even acknowledgment.

If I had set out to write a scientific treatise
of the life on this side, I should have begun in
quite a different way from this. In the first place,
I should have postponed the labour about ten

THE MAGIC RING II 9

years, until all my facts were pigeon-holed and
docketed; then I should have begun at the begin-
ning and dictated a book so dull that you would
have fallen asleep over it, and I should have
had to nudge you from time to time to pick up
the pencil fallen from your somnolent hand.

Instead, I began to write soon after coming
out, and these letters are really the letters of a
traveller in a strange country. They record his
impressions, often his mistakes, sometimes per-
haps his provincial prejudices; but at least they
are not a rehash of what somebody else has said.

I like your keeping my photograph on your
mantel as you do; it helps me to come. There
is a great power in a photograph.

I have been drawing pictures for you lately
on the canvas of dreams, to show you the futility
and vanity of certain things. Did you not know
that we could do that? The power of the so-
called dead to influence the living is immense,
provided that the tie of sympathy has been made.
I have taught you how to protect yourself against
influences which you do not want, so do not be
afraid. I will always stand guard to the extent
of warning you if there is any danger of attack
from this side. Already I have drawn a magic

I20 J.ETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

ring around you which only the most advanced
and powerful spirits could pass, even if they de-
sired — ^that is, the Teachers and I drew it to-
gether. You are doing our work just now, and
have a right to our protection. That the labourer
is worthy of his hire is an axiom of both worlds.
Only you yourself could now let down the bars
for the inrush of evil and irresponsible spiritual
intelligences, and if you should inadvertently let
down the bars we should rush to put them up
again. We have some authority out here. Yes,
even so soon I can say that. Are you surprised?

LETTER XXVIII

EXCEPT YE BE AS LITTLE CHILDREN

I ONCE heard a man refer to this world as
the play world, "for," said he, "we are all
children here, and we create the environment that
we desire." As a child at play can turn a chair
into a tower or a prancing steed, so we in this
world can make real for the moment whatever
we imagine.

Has it never filled you with amazement, that
absolute vividness of the imagination of children ?
A child says unblushingly and with conviction,
"That rug is a garden, that plank in the floor
is a river, that chair is a castle, and I am a king."

Why does he say these things? How can he
say these things? Because — and here is the point
— he still subconsciously remembers the life out
here which he so lately left. He has carried over
with him into the life of earth something of his
lost freedom and power of imagination.

That does not mean that all things in this world
arc imapnary-vfar from it. Objects here, pb-

121

122 LETTBRS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

jects existing in tenuous matter, are as real and
comparatively substantial as with you; but there
is the possibility of creation here, creation in a
form of matter even more subtle still — ^thought-
substance.

If you create something on earth in solid mqit-
ter, you create it first in thought-substance; but
there is this difference between your creation and
ours : until you have moulded solid matter around
your thought-pattern you do not believe that the
thought-pattern really exists save in your own
fancy.

We out here can see the thought-creations of
others if we and they will it so.

We can also — and I tell you this for your com-
fort — ^we can also see your thought-creations, and
by adding the strength of our will to youts we
can help you to realise them in substantial form.

Sometimes we build here bit by bit, in the four-
dimensional world, especially when we wish to
leave a thing for others to see and enjoy, when
we wish a thing to survive for a long time. But
a thought-form is visible to all highly developed
spirits.

Of course you understand that not all spirits
are highly developed. In fact very few are far
progressed; but the dullest man out here has

EXCEPT YE BE AS LITTLE CHILDREN 1 23

something which most of you have lost — the faith
in his own thought-creations.

N0W9 the power which makes creation possi-
ble is not lost to a soul when it takes on solid mat-
ter again. But the power is gradually overcome
and the imagination is discouraged by the in-
credulity of mature men and women, who say
constantly to the child: "That is only play; that
is not really so; that is only imagination.''

If you print these letters, I wish you would
insert here fragments from that wonderful poem
of Wordsworth, "Intimations of Immortality
from Recollections of Early Childhood."

''Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us^ our life's Star^
Hath had elsewhere its settings

And Cometh from afar:
Not in entire f orgetfulness^
And not in utter nakedness^
But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God^ who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy !

Shades of the prison-house begin to dose

Upon the growing Boy^
Bot He beholds the lights and whence it flows^

He sees it in his joy;

124 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

The Youtb^ who daily farther from the eoit
Must travel^ still is Nature's Priest^
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away^
And fade into the light of common day."

There Is almost no limit to the possibilities of
the imagination; but to get the full power of it,
one must trust one's imagination. If you say to
yourself constantly, as the mother says to the
child, "But this is only play; this is not real," you
never can make real the things you have created
in thought.

The imagination itself is like a child and must
be encouraged and believed in, or it caimot de-
velop and do its perfect work.

It is really fortunate for some of you that I
am out here. I can do more for you here than
there, because I have even greater faith in my
imagination than I had before.

The man who called this the play world has
been trying all sorts of experiments with the
power in himself. I have not his permission to
tell the stories he tells me, but they would sur-
prise you. For one thing, he helped his wife,
after his so-called death, to carry out a joint plan
of theirs which had seemed impossible to them

EXCEPT YE BE AS LITTLE CHILDREN 1 25

before because of their lack of real faith. It was
for the erection of a certain kind of house.

But do not fancy that most people here are
trying to build houses on earth. Far from it.
Most of my fellow-citizens are willing to work
where they are, and to let the earth alone. Of
course there are "dreamers" like me, who are
not satisfied with one world, and who like to have
their fingers in both; but they are rather rare,
as poets are rare on earth. To most men the
world they happen to be in is sufficient for the
time being.

There is a certain fancy of mine, however,
which it will amuse me to help realise on earth.
You may not know that I am doing it, but I shall
know. I would not, "for the world," as you
say, disturb anybody by even the thought that
I am fussing around in affairs which now are
theirs. But if, unseen and unf elt, I can help with
the power of my self-confident imagination, there
will be no harm done, and I shall have demon*
strated something.

LETTER XXIX

AN UNEXPECTED WARNING

I SHOULD be very sorry if the reading of
these letters of mine should cause foolish
and unthinking people to go spirit-hunting, in-
viting into their human sphere the irresponsible
and often lying elemental spirits. Tell them not
to do it.

My coming in this way through your hand is
quite another matter. I could not do it if I had
not been instructed in the scientific method of
procedure, and I also could not do it if you should
constantly interrupt me by side-thoughts of your
own, and by questions relevant or irrelevant. It
is because you are perfectly passive and not even
curious, letting me use your hand as on earth I
would have used the hand of my stenographer,
that I am able to write long and connected sen-
tences.

Most spirit communications, even when genu-
ine, have little value, for the reason that they

126

AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 1 27

are r^arly always coloured by the mind of the
person through whom they pass.

You are right in reading nothing on the sub-
ject while these messages are coming, and in
thinking nothing about this plane of life where
I am. Thus you avoid preconceived ideas, which
would interrupt the flow of my ideas.

You know, perhaps, that while on earth I in-
vestigated spiritualism, as I investigated many
things of an occult nature, looking always for
the truth that was behind them; but I was con-
vinced then, and I am now more than ever con-
vinced, that, except for the scientific demonstra-
tion that such things can be — which, of course,
has value as a demonstration only,— most spirit-
hunting is not only a waste of time, but an abso-
lute detriment to those who engage in it.

This may sound strange coming from a so-
called "spirit," one who is actually at this time
in communication with the world. If that is so,
I cannot help it. If I seem inconsistent, then I
seem so ; that is all. But I wish to go on record
as discouraging irresponsible mediumship.

If a person sitting for mediumship could be
sure that at the other end of the psychic line there
was an entity who had something sincere and im-
portant to say, and who really could use him or

128 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

her to say it through, it would be another mat-
ter; but this world out here is full of vagrants,
even as the earth. As this world is peopled
largely from your world, it is inevitable that we
have the same kind of beings that you have.
They have not changed much in passing through
the doors of death.

Would you advise any delicate and sensitive
woman to sit down in the centre of Hyde Park,
and invite the passing crowds to come and speak
through her, or touch her, or mingle their mag-
netism with hers? You shudder. You would
shudder more had you seen some of the things
which I have seen.

Then, too, there is another class of beings here,
the kind which we used to hear the Theosophists
call elementals. Now, there has been a lot of
nonsense written about elementals; but take this
for a fact: there are units of energy, units of
consciousness, which correspond pretty closely to
what the Theosophists understand by elementals.
These entities are not, as a rule, very highly de-
veloped; but as the stage of earth life is the stage
to which they aspire, and as it is the next in-
evitable stage in their evolution, they are drawn
to it powerfully.

So do not be too sure that the entity which

AN UNEXPECTED WARNING 1 29

raps on your table or your cupboard is the spirit
of your deceased grandfather. It may be merely
a blind and very desirous entity, an eager con-
sciousness, trying to use you to hasten its own
evolution, trying to get into you or through you,
so as to enjoy the earth and the coarser vibra-
tions of the earth.

It may not be able to harm you, but, on the
other hand, it may do you a great deal of harm.
You had better discourage such attempts to break
through the veil which separates you from them;
for the veil is thinner than you think, and though
you cannot see through it, you can feel through it.

Having said this, my duty in the matter is dis-
charged; and the next time I come I can tell you
a story, maybe, instead of giving you a lecture.

I really feel like an astral Scheherazade ; but I
fear you would tire of me before a thousand-and-
one nights were past. A thousand-and-one nights I
Before that time I shall have gone on. No, I do
not mean "died" again into another world be-
yond; but when I get through telling you what
I desire you to know about my life here, I want
to investigate other stars, if it shall be permitted.

I am like a young man who has lately inherited
a fortune and has at last unlimited means and
opportunity for travel. Though he might stay

130 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

around home a few months, getting matters in
shape and becoming adjusted to his new freedom
of movement, yet the time would come when he
would want to try his wings. I hope that is not
a mixed metaphor ; if so, you can edit me. I shall
not feel hurt

LETTER XXX

THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN

IF your eyes could pierce the veil of matter,
and you could see what goes on in the tenu-
ous world around and above that city of Paris,
you would gasp with wonder. I have spent much
time in Paris lately. Shall I tell you some of the
strange things I have seen ?

In a street on the left bank of the river, called
the rue de Vaugtrard, there lives a man of middle
age and sedentary habits who is a sort of ma-
gician. He is constantly attended and served by
one of the elemental spirits known as sylphs.
This sylph he calls Meriline. I do not know from
what language he got the name, for he seems
to speak several, and to know Hebrew. I have
seen this Meriline coming and going to and from
his apartment. No, it would not be right for me
to tell you where it is. The man could be iden-
tified, though the sylph would elude the census-
taker.

131

132 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

Meriline does not make his bed or cook his
broth, for which humble service he has a char-
woman ; but the sylph runs errands and discovers
things for him. He is a collector of old books
and manuscripts, and many of his treasures have
been located by Meriline in the stalls which lie
along the banks of the Seine, and also in more
pretentious bookshops.

This man is not a devil-worshipper. He Is
only a harmless enthusiast;, fond of occult things,
and striving to pierce the veil which shuts the
elemental world from his eyes. A little less brandy
and wine, and he miffht be able to see clearly, for
he is a true student. But he is fond of the flesh,
and it preys upon the spirit.

One day I encountered Meriline going upon
one of his errands, and I introduced myself by
signalling with my hands and calling my name.
This attracted the attention of the sprite, who
came and stood beside me.

"Where are you going?" I asked; and she
nodded towards the other side of the river.

The thought came to me that perhaps I ought
not to question this servant of the good magician
as to her master's business, so I hesitated. She
also hesitated; then she said:

"But he is interested in the spirits of men."

THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN 133

This made the matter simpler, and I asked:

'You do his errands?"

'Yes, always."

'Why do you do his errands?"

'Because I love to serve him."

'And why do you love to serve him?"

'Because I belong to him."

'I thought every soul belonged to itself."

'But I am not a soul 1"

'Then what are you?"

'A sylph."

'Do you ever expect to be a soul?"

'Oh, yes ! He has promised that I shall be, if
serve him faithfully."

'But how can he make you to be a soul?"

'I don't know; but he will."

'How do you know that he will?"

'Because I trust him."

'What makes you trust him?"

'Because he trusts me."

'And you always tell him the truth?**

'Always."

'Who taught you what truth is?"

'He did."

'How?"
This seemed to puzzle the being before me,

134 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

and I feared she would go away; so I detained
her by sajring, quickly:

"I do not want to worry you with questions
which you cannot answer. Tell me how you first
came into his service."

"Ought ir

"So you have a conscience?"

"Yes, he taught me to have."

"But you say that he is interested in the spirits
of men."

"Yes, and I also know good spirits from bad
ones."

"Did he teach you that?"

"No."

"How did you learn?"

"I always knew."

"Then you have lived a long time ?"

"Oh, yes!"

"And when do you expect to have, or to become
a soul?"

"When he comes out here, into this world
where we are."

This staggered me by its daring. Had the
good magician been deceiving his sylph, or did
he really believe what he promised?

"What did he say about it?" I asked.

THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN I35

"That if I would serve him now, he would
serve me later."

"And how is he going to do it?**

"I don't know."

"Suppose you ask him?"

"I never ask questions. I answer them."

"For instance, what sort of questions?"

"I tell him where such and such a person is,
and what he or she is doing."

"Can you tell him what these people are think-
ing?"

"Not often — or not always. Sometimes I
can.

"How can you tell?"

"By the feel of them. If I am warm in their
presence, I know they are friendly to him; if I
am cold, I know they are his enemies. If I feel
nothing at all, then I know that they are not
thinking of him, or are indifferent."

"And your errand this evening?"

"To see a lady."

^And you are not jealous?"

^Whatis^alous*?"

"You are not displeased that he should in-
tierest himself in ladies?"

"Why should I be?"

This was a question I could not answer, not

136 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

knowing the nature of sylphs. She surprised me
a little, for I had supposed that all female things
were jealous. But, fearing again that she might
leave me, I hurried to question her further.

"How did you make his acquaintance?'* I
asked.

"He called me."

"How?"

"By the incantation."

"What incantation?"

"The call of the sylphs."

"Oh," I said, "he called the sylphs and you
camel"

"Yes, of course. I liked him for his kindness,
and I made him see me."

"How did you manage it?"

"I dazzled his eyes until he closed them, and
then he could see me."

"Can he always see you now?"

"No, but he knows I am there."

"He can see you sometimes still?"

"Yes, often."

"And when he saw you first?"

"He was delighted, and called me loving
names, and made me promises."

"The promise of a soul — ^that first time?"

"Yes."

THE SYLPH AND THE MAGICIAN I37

"Then you had wanted to have a soul?"

"Oh, yes 1"

"But why?"

"Many of us want to be men. We love men
— that is, most of us do."

"Why do you love men?"

"It is our nature."

"But not the nature of all of you?"

"There are malignant spirits of the air."

"And what will you do when you have a soul?"

"I will take a body, and live on earth."

"And leave your friend whom you now serve?"

"Oh, no 1 It is to be with him that I specially
want a body."

"Then will he come back to the earth with
you?"

"He says so."

This again staggered me. I was becoming in-
terested in this magician; he had a daring imagi-
nation.

Could a spirit of the air develop into a hu-
man soul? I asked myself. Was the man self-
deceived? Or, again, was he deceiving his lovely
messenger ?

I thought a little too long this time, for when
I turned again to speak to my strange companion,
she had left me. I tried to follow, but could

138 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

not find her; and If she returned soon, it must
have been by some other road. Though I looked
in all directionsi she was invisible to me.

Now, the question will arise in your mind: In
what language did I talk with this aerial servant
of a French magician? I seemed to speak in my
own tongue, and she seemed to respond in the
same. How is that? I cannot say, unless we
really used the subtle language of thought itself.

You may often, on meeting with a person
whose language you do not speak, feel an inter-
change of ideas, by the look of the eyes, by the
expression of the face, by gestures. Now im-
agine that, intensified a hundredfold. Might it
not extend to the simple questions and answers
which I exchanged with the sylph? I do not
say that it would, but I think it might; for, as I
said before, I seemed to speak and she seemed
to reply in my own language.

What strange experiences one has out here I
I rather dread to go back into the world, where
it will be so dull for me for a long time. Can
I exchange this freedom and vivid life for a long
period of somnolence, afterwards to suck a bot-
tle and learn the multiplication table and Greek
and Latin verbs ? I suppose I must— -but not yet

Good night.

LETTER XXXI

A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS

BY the vividness with which you feel my pres-
ence at times, you can judge of the intensity
of the life that I am living. I am no pallid spook,
dripping with grave-dew. I am real, and quite as
wholesome — or so it seems to me — as when I
walked the earth in a more or less unhealthy
body. The ghastly spectres, when they return, do
not talk as I talk. Ask those who have seen and
heard them.

It is well that you have kept yourself com-
paratively free of communications "from the
other world."

It would have been amazing had you been
afraid of me. But there are those who would
be, if they should sense my presence as you sense
it.

One night I knocked at the door of a friend's
chamber, half expecting a welcome. He jumped

140 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

out of bed in alarm, then jumped back again,
and pulled the blanket over his head. He was
really afraid that it might be 1 1 So, as I did not
wish to be responsible for a case of heart failure,
or for a shock of hair which, like that in the old
song, "turned white in a single night," I went
quietly away. Doubtless he persuaded himself
next day that there were mice in the wainscot-
ting.

Had you been afraid of me, though, I should
have been ashamed of you ; for you know better.
Most persons do not.

It is a real pleasure for me to come back and
talk with you sometimes. "There are no friends
like the old friends," and the society of sylphs
and spirits would never quite satisfy me if all
those whom I had known and loved should turn
their backs on me.

Speaking of sylphs, I met the TeacheT last
night, and asked him if that French magician
I told you about could really make good his prom-
ise to his aerial companion, and help her to ac-
quire the kind of soul essential to incarnation on
earth as a woman. His answer was, "No."

Of course I asked him why, and he answered
that the elemental creatures, or units of force
inhabiting the elements, as we use that term, could

A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS I4I

not, during this life cycle, step out of their ele-
ment into the human.

"Can they ever do so?" I asked.

"I do not know," he replied; "but I believe
that all the less evolved units around the earth
are working in the direction of man; that the
human is a stage of development which they will
all reach some day, but not in this life cycle."

I asked the Teacher if he knew the magician
in question, and he answered that he had known
him for a thousand years, that long ago, in a
former life, the Paris magician had placed his feet
upon the path which leads to power; but that
he had been side-tracked by the desire for sel-
fish pleasures, and that he might wander a long
time before he found his way back to real and
philosophical truth.

"Is he to be blamed or pitied?" I asked.

"Pity cuts no figure in the problem," the
Teacher replied. "A man seeks what he de-

sires.

After the Teacher went away I began asking
myself questions. What was / seeking, and what
did I desire? The answer came quickly: "Knowl-
edge." A year ago I might have answered
"Power," but knowledge is the forerunner of

142 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

power. If I get true knowledge, I shall have
power enough.

It is because I want to give to you, and pos-
sibly to others, a few scraps of knowledge which
might be inaccessible to you by any other means,
that I am coming back, and coming back, time
after time, to talk with you.

The greatest bit of knowledge that I have to
offer you is this: that by the exercise of will a
man can retain his objective consciousness after
death. Many persons out here sink into a sort
of subjective bliss which makes them indifferent
as to what is going on upon the earth or in the
heavens. I could do so myself, easily.

As I believe I have said before, while man on
earth has both subjective and objective conscious-
ness, but functions mostly in the objective, out
here he has still subjective and objective conscious-
ness, but the tendency is towards the subjective.

At almost any time, on composing yourself and
looking in, you can fall into a state of subjective
bliss which is similar to that enjoyed by souls on
this side of the dividing line called death. In
fact, it is by such subconscious experience that
man has learned nearly all he knows regarding
the etheric world. When the storms and passions
of the body are stilled, man can catch a glimpse

A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS 1 43

of his own interior life, and that interior life is
the life of this fourth-dimensional plane. Please
do not accuse me of contradicting myself or of
being obscure; I have said that the objective con-
sciousness is as possible with us as the subjective
is with you, but that the tendency is merely the
other way.

You may remember a pair of lovers about
whom I wrote you a few weeks ago. He had
been out here some time, and had waited for her,
and helped her over the uncertain marsh-lands
which lie between the two states of existence.

I saw these lovers again the other day, but
they were not at all excited by my appearance.
On the contrary, I fancy that I put them out
somewhat by awakening them, by calling them
back from the state of subjective bliss into which
they have sunk since being together at last.

While he waited for her all those years, he
kept himself awake by expectation; while still on
earth she was always thinking of him out here,
and so the polarity was sustained. Now they
have each other; they are in "the little home"
which he built for her with so much pleasure out
of the tenuous materials of this tenuous world;
they see each other's faces whether they look out

144 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

or in; they are content; they have nothing more
to attain (or so they tell each other), and they
consequently sink back into the arms of subjec-
tive bliss.

Now this state of bliss, of rumination, they
have a right to enjoy. No one can take it from
them. They have earned it by activity in the
world and elsewhere, it is theirs by rhythmic jus-
tice. They will enjoy it, I fancy, for a long time,
living over the past experiences which they have
had together and apart. Then some day one or
the other of them will become surfeited with too
much sweetness; the muscles of his (or her) soul
will stretch for want of exercise; he (or she)
will give a spiritual yawn, and by the law of re-
action, pass out — ^not to return.

Where will he (or she) go, you ask? Why,
back to the earth, of course I

Let us imagine him (or her) awaking from
that subjective state of bliss which is known to
them as attainment, and going for a short prome-
nade in blessed and wholesome solitude. Then,
with a sort of morning alertness in the heart and
the eye, he (or she) draws near to a pair of
earthly lovers. Suddenly the call of matter, the
eager, terrible call of blood and warmth, of ac-
tivity raised to the nth power, catches the half-

A PROBLEM IN CELESTIAL MATHEMATICS I45

awakened soul on the ethereal side of matter,
and

He has again entered the world of material
formation. He is sunk and hidden in the flesh
of earth. He awaits birth. He will come out
with great force, by reason of his former rest.
He might even become a "captain of industry,"
if he is a strong unit. But I began by saying "he
or she." Let me change the figure. The man
would be almost certain to awake first, by reason
of his positive polarity.

Now, in drawing this imaginary picture of my
lovers, I am not making a dogma of the way in
which all souls return to earth. I am merely
guessing how these two will return ( for she would
probably follow him speedily when she awoke and
found herself alone). And the reason why I
fancy they will return in that way is because they
are indulging themselves in too much subjective
bliss.

When will they go back? I cannot say. Per-
haps next year, perhaps in a hundred years. Not
knowing the numerical value of their unit of
force, I cannot guess how much subjective bliss
they can endure without a violent reaction.

I am sure that you are wondering if some day

146 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

I shall myself sink into that state of bliss which
I have described. Perhaps, I should enjoy it —
but not for long, and not yet. However, I have
no sweetheart out here to enjoy it with me.

LETTER XXXII

A CHANGE OF FOCUS

WITH the guidance of the Teacher, during
the last few weeks I have been going to
and fro in the earth and walking up and down
in it. You smile at the veiled reference. But
have not certain friends of yours actually feared
me, as if I were the devil of the Book of Job?

Now, to be serious, I have been visiting those
lands and cities where in former lives I lived and
worked among men. One of the many advan-
tages of travel is that it helps a man to remem-
ber his former existences. There is certainly a
magic in places,

I have been in Egypt, in India, in Persia, in
Spain, in Italy ; I have been in Germany, Switzer-
land, Austria, Greece, Turkey, and many other
lands. The Dardanelles were not closed to me
recently, when by reason of the war you could
not have passed through. There are advantages
to almost every condition, even my present one;
for the law of compensation holds good.

147

148 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

In certain lives of the past I was a wide travel-
Now you may wonder how it is that I pass
easily from this world to yours, seeing into both.
But you must remember that your world and mine
occupy about the same space; that the plane of
the earth's surface is one of the lower and more
material planes of our world, using the word
"plane" as you would use the word "layer."

As I have said before, there are also places ac-
cessible to us which lie at some distance above
the earth's surface. "Mansions In the skies" are
j yVtiOrt than figurative.

\/ I have only slightly to change my focus at any
^ ^^me, to find myself in your world. That I can-
not be seen there with the naked eye is no proof
that I am not there. Without that change of
focus, which is done through an action of will
and by knowing the method, I might even be oc-
cupying the same space as something in your
world and not know it. Note well this point,
for it is only half of something which I have to
say. The other half is, that you also may at any
time be — so far as space is concerned — in the im-
mediate neighbourhood of interesting things in
our world, and not know that you are there.
But if you focus to this world you are more

A CHANGE OF FOCUS I49

or less conscious of it. So when I, knowing how,
focus to your world, I am there in consciousness
and can enjoy the varied sights of many cities,
the changing aspects of many lands.

When I first came out I could not see my way
about the earth very well, but now I can see bet-
ter.

No, I am not going to give you a formula to
^ve to other people by which you or they could
change focus at will and enter into relation with
this world, because such knowledge at the pres-
ent stage of human progress would do more harm
than good.' I merely state the fact, and leave
the application for those who have the curiosity
and the ability to demonstrate it.

My object in writing these letters is primarily
to convince a few persons — to strengthen their
certainty in the fact of immortality, or the sur-
vival of the soul after the bodily change which
is called death. Many think they believe who
are not certain whether they believe or not. If
I can make my presence as a living and vital en-
tity felt in these letters, it will have the effect
of strengthening the belief of certain persons in
the doctrine of immortality.

This is a materialistic age. A large percentage
of men and women have no real interest in the

I50 lETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

life beyond the grave. But they will all have to
come out here sooner or later, and perhaps a
few will find the change easier, the journey less
formidable, by reason of what I shall have taught
them. Is it not worth while? Is it not worth
a little effort on your part as well as on mine?

Any person approaching the great change who
shall seriously study these letters and lay their
principles to heart, and who shall will to remem-
ber them after passing out, need not fear any-
thing.

We all fail in much that we undertake, but I
hope I shall not fail in this. Do not you fail on
your side. I could not do this work without you,
nor could you do it without me. That is in an-
swer to the supposition that I am your subcon-
scious mind.

I have been in Constantinople ^nd have stood
in the very room where I once had a remarkable
experience, hundreds of years ago. I have seen
the walls, I have touched them, I have read the
etheric records of their history, and my own his-
tory in connection therewith.

I have walked the rose-gardens of Persia and
have smelled the flowers — the grandchildren,
hundreds of times removed, of those roses whose

A CHANGE OF FOCUS 151

fragrance was an ecstasy to me when, watching
with the bulbul, I paced there in another form
and with intentions different to mine now. It was
the perfume of the roses which made me remem-
ber.

In Greece also I have lived over the old days.
Before their degeneration began, what a race
they werel I think that concentration was the
secret of their power. The ether around that
peninsula is written over with their exploits, in
daring thought as well as daring action. The
old etheric records are so vivid that they shine
through the later writings; for you must know
that what are called astral records lie layer
against layer everywhere. We read one layer
instead of another, either by affinity or by will.
It is no more strange than that a man may go
among the millions of volumes in the British Mu-
seum and select the one he wants. The most
marvellous things are always simple of explana-
tion if one has the key to unlock their secret.

There has been much nonsense written about
vibration, but nevertheless truth lies thereabouts.
Where there is so much smoke there must be
fire.

In India I have met with yo^s in meditation.
Do you know why their peculiar way of breath-

"^152 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

ing produces psychic results? No, you do not
Now let me tell you: By holding the breath long
a certain — shall I say poison? — is produced in
the body, which poison, acting on the psychic na-
ture, changes the vibration. That is all. Vol-
umes have been written about yoga, but have any
of them said that? The untrained healthy lungs,
in the ordinary operation, get rid of this poison
by processes well known to physiologists, — ^that
is, in the natural man, adjusted to and working
contentedly on the material plane. But in order
for a man still living on the material plane to be-
come adjusted to the psychic world, a change of
vibration is necessary. This change of vibration
may be produced by a slight overdose of the
above-mentioned poison. Is it dangerous? Yes,
to the ignorant. To those who are learned in
its use it is no more dangerous than most of the
drugs in the pharmacopoeia.

Another time I will tell you about other secrets
which I have discovered going to and fro in the
earth and walking up and down in it.

LETTER XXXIII

FIVE RESOLUTIONS

I HAVE Stood at night on the roof of an
Oriental palace and watched the stars. You
who can see into the invisible world by changing
your focus, can easily understand how I, by a
reverse process, can see into the world of dense
matter. Yes, it is the same thing, only turned
the other way.

I stood on the roof of an Oriental palace and
watched the stars. No mortal was near me.
Looking down upon the sleeping city, I have seen
the cloud of souls which kept watch above it, have
seen the messengers coming and going. Once
or twice a wan, half-frightened face appeared
among the cloud of spirits, and I knew that down
below in the city someone had died.

But I had seen so many spirits since coming
out here that I was more interested in watching
the stars. I used to love them, and I love them

IS3

/ 154 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

still. Some day, if it is permitted, I hope to
know more about them. But I shall not leave
the neighbourhood of the earth until these let-
ters are finished. From the distance of the planet
Jupiter I might not be able to write at all. It
is true that one can come and go, almost with
the quickness of thought; but something tells me
that it is better to postpone for a time my
more extensive travelling. Perhaps when I get
out there I sh^ll not want to come back for a long
time.

It means much to me this correspondence with
earth. During my illness I used to wonder if I
could come back sometimes, but I never imagined
anything like this. I would not have supposed
it possible to find any well-balanced and respon-
sible person with daring enough to join me in the
experiment.

I could not have written through the hand
of a person of. untrained mind unless he or she
had been fully hypnotised. I could not have writ-
ten through the hand of the average intellectual
person, because such persons cannot make them-
selves sufficiently passive.

Be at peace. You are not a spirit medium,
using the word as it is commonly used, signifying
a passive instrument, an aeolian harp, set in an

FIVE RESOLUTIONS I55j

aperture between the two worlds and played upon
by any wind that blows.

Except as illustrating the fact that it can be
done, there is no great object in my telling you of
the things I have seen in your world since com-
ing to this other one. The next time you look
out into this plane of life and see the wonder-
ful landscapes and the people, remember that
it is in a similar way that I look back into your
plane of existence. It is interesting to live in two
worlds, going back and forth at will. But when
I go into yours it is only as a visitor, and I shall
never attempt to take a hand in its government.
There is such a rigorous custom-house on the
frontier between the two worlds that the traveller
back and forth cannot afford to carry anything
mth him — ^not even a prejudice.

If you should come out here with a determina-
tion to see only certain things, you might give a
wrong value to what you would see. Many have
come out here at death with that mental attitude,
and so have learned little or nothing. It is the
traveller with the open mind who makes discov-
eries.

I brought over with me only a few resolutions :

To preserve my identity ;

156 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

To hold my memory of earth life, and to carry
back the memory of this life when I should re-
turn to the world ;

To see the great Teachers;

To recover the memories of my past incarna-
tions;

To lay the necessary foundations for a great
earth life when I should go back next time.

That sounds simple, does it not? Already I
have done much besides; but if I had not borne
these points in mind I might have accomplished
little.

The only really sad thing about death is that
the average man learns so little from it. Only
my realisation of the fact that the chain of earth
lives is relatively endless could keep me from re-
gret that most persons make so little progress in
each life. But I comfort myself with the as-
surance that there is no hurry; that the pearls
in the chain of existence, though small, are all
in their inevitable places, and that the chain is
a circle, the symbol of eternity.

And it seems to me, with my still finite view,
that most men on this side waste their lives even
as they do on your side. That shows how far I
am yet from the ideal knowledge.

Viewed from the stars, whence I hope some

FIVE RESOLUTIONS 1 57

day to view them, all these flat stretches in the
landscape of life may be softened by distance,
and the whole picture may take on a perspective
of beauty which I had not dreamed of while I
myself was but a speck upon the canvas.

LETTER XXXIV

THE PASSING OF LIONEL

I HAVE lost my boy Lionel. He has gone —
I started to say the way of all flesh; but I
must revise the figure and say the way of all
spirits, sooner or later, and that way is back to
the earth.

One day not long ago I found him absorbed
in thought in our favourite resting-place, the lit-
tle hut beside a stream at the foot of a wooded
hill, which I told you about in one of my for-
mer letters.

I waited for a time until the boy opened his
eyes and looked at me.

"Father," he said, "my favourite teacher is
going to be married to-morrow."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"Why, I have been listening!" he answered.
"Every little while I go back and pay her a visit,
though she does not know I am there. I have
been aware that there was something in the wind."

"Why?"

158

THE PASSING OF LIONEL 1 59

''Because she has been so shining; there is a
light around her which was not there before."

"What caused the light, Lionel?"

"Well, I suppose she is what they call in love"

"You are a phenomenally wise child," I said.

He looked at me with his large, honest eyes.

"I am not really a child at all," he answered.
*'I am as old as the hills, as you, or as anybody.
Have you not told me that we are all immortal,
without end or beginning?"

"Yes, but go on, tell me about your teacher."

"She is in love with the big brother of one of
my playfellows. I used to know him when I was
a little boy. He let me use his magnet, and taught
me kite-flying, and showed me how machinery
went. He is an engineer."

"Ohl" I said. "In this case, of course, you are
glad that your favourite teacher is going to marry
him."

Lionel's eyes were larger than ever as he said :

"I shall be sorry to leave you, Father; but it
Is a chance I cannot afford to miss."

"What!"

"It is my opportunity to go back. I've been
watching for it a long time."

"But are you ready?"

"What is it to be ready? I want to go."

l6o LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

**And leave me?"

''I shall find you again. And — Oh, Father I-^--
when you come back I shall be older than you."
This idea seemed to delight him.

I was still human enough to be sorry that the
boy was going of his own free will ; but as will is
free, I would not make any effort to detain him.
Though young in that form, which had not yet
had time to grow up in the tenuous world since
he came out as a child, yet he was old in thought.

"Yes," I said, '^perhaps you can help me along
when I also shall be- a child again."

"You see," he went on, ^^mth a father like
Victor I shall learn all I want to know about ma-
chinery — that is, all that he can teach me; but
when I am grown I shall find out for myself many
things which he does not know. You remember
the little machine I have been working with, up
in the pattern world?"

"Yes."

"When I am back on the earth I shall make
it a reality. Why, it actually runs now with the
electricity from my fingers!"

"But will it, when you have fixed it in material
form, in steel, or whatever it is to be made of?"

"Yes, of course it will. It is my invention. I
shall be a famous man."

THE PASSING OF LIONEL l6l

**But supposing that somebody else finds it
first?"

"I don't think anybody will."

''Shall I help you to lay a spell around the pat-
tern, so that no one can touch it?"

"Could you do that, Father?"

"I think so."

"Then let us go up there at once," he sajd,
"and do it immediately. I may have to leave this
world in a day or two."

I could not help smiling at the boy's desire to
hurry. Doubtless he would be present at that
wedding, and I should see little or nothing of him
afterwards.

We went up to the pattern world, and with his
assistance I drew a circle around the little ma-
chine — a spell which, I think, will protect it until
he is ready to make his claim.

Oh inspiration ! Oh invention 1 Genius ! Lit-
tle do the men of earth know the meaning of those
words. Perhaps the poet's famous poem was
sung before his birth; perhaps the engineer's in-
vention lay in the pattern world, protected by
his spell, while he grew to manhood and advanced
in science and made ready to claim it for his own,
his prior and spiritual creation. Perhaps, when
two men discover or invent the same thing at

1 62 LETTERS PROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

about the same time, one has succeieded in appro-
priating the design which the other left behind
him when he came back to earth. Sometimes,
perhaps, both have taken from the invisible the
creation of a third man, who still awaits rebirth.

Lionel babbled on to me about the life to come,

and of what a charming mother Miss would

be. She had always been good to him.

"Perhaps," I said, "many of us who return al-
most immediately, as you hope to do, seek out
those who have been good to us in a former
life."

"There is another point," Lionel said. "Miss

is a friend of my own mother, the one I

left a few years ago. It will be so good to have
her hold my hand again."

"Do you think she will recognise you?" I asked.

"Who knows? She believes in rebirth."

"How can you say that? You were so little
when you came outl"

"I was seven years old, and already she had
told me that we live many lives on earth."

"Bless the souls who first brought that belief
to the Western world 1" I exclaimed. "And now,
my boy, is there anything that I can do for you
after you leave me?"

• THE PASSING OF LIONEL 163

"Yes, of course; you can watch over my new
mother, and warn her if any danger threatens
her or me/*

"Then make me acquainted with her now."
We went out into the material world, the
boy and I. Already I have told you how we

go-
He took me to a little house in one of the sub-
urbs of Boston. We entered a room — ^it was
then about eleven o'clock at night upon that part
of the earth, — and I saw a fair young woman
kneeling beside her bed, praying to God that He
would bless the union of the morrow which was
to ^ve her to the man she loved.

Lionel went close to her and threw his arms
about her neck.

She started, as if she actually felt the contact,
and sprang to her feet.

"Miss , Miss , don't you know me?"

he cried; but while I could hear him, she evi-
dently could not, though she looked about her
in a half-frightened way.

Then, supposing that the touch and the pres-
ence she had felt were imaginary, she again fell
upon her knees and went on with her interrupted
prayer.

164 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

**Come away," I said to the boy; and we left
her there with her dreams and her devotions.

That was the last I saw of Lionel. He bade
me good-bye, saying:

**I shall stay near her for a few days. Per-
haps I shall go back and forth, from her to you ;
but if I do not return, I will meet you again in
a few years."

"Yes," I said, "it is affinity and desire which
draw souls together, either on earth or in the
other world"

When next I met the Teacher I told him about
Lionel, and asked him if he thought the boy could
come out to me now and then, after his life on
earth had begun, as an unborn entity in the shel-
ter of his mother's form.

"Probably not," he replied. "If he were an
adept soul, he might do that; but with a soul of
even high development, lacking real adeptship, it
would be impossible."

"Yet," I said, "men living on earth do come
out here in dreams."

"Yes, but when the soul enters matter, pre-
paring for rebirth, it enters potentiality, if we
may use the term, and all its strength is needed
in the herculean effort to form the new body and

THE PASSING OF LIONEL ^^C

adjust to it After birth, when the eyes are *
opened, and the lungs are expanded to the air,
the task is easier, and there may be left enough
unused energy to bridge the gulf.

"But," he went on, "those who are soon to
be mothers are often vaguely conscious of the
souls they harbour. Even when they do not grasp
the full significance of the miracle that is being
performed through them, they have strange
dreams and visions, which are mostly glimpses
into the past incarnations of the unborn child.
They see dream countries where the entity within
has dwelt in the past ; they feel desires which they
cannot explain — reflected desires which are mere-
ly the latent yearnings of the unborn one; they
experience groundless fears which are its former
dreads and terrors. The mother who nourishes
a truly great soul, during this period of for-
mation may herself grow spiritually beyond her
own unaided possibility; while the mother of
an unborn criminal often develops strange
perversities, quite unlike her normal state of
mind. "

"If a woman were sufficiently intelligent and
informed, she could judge from her own feel-
ings and ideas what sort of soul was to be her
child some day, and prepare to guide it accord-

1 66 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

Ingly. More knowledge is needed, here as else-
whcrie."

So, as in all my experiences, I learned some-
thing through the passing out of Lionel.

LETTER XXXV

THE BEAUTIFUL BEING

YES, I have seen angels, if by angels you mean
spiritual beings who have never dwelt as
men upon the earth.

As a man is to a rock, so is an angel to a man
in vi^dness of life. If we ever experienced that
state of etheric joy, we have lost it through long
association with matter. Can we ever regain
it? Perhaps. The event is in our hand.

Shall I tell you of one whom I call the Beauti-
ful Being? If it has a name in heaven, I have
not heard it. Is the Beautiful Being man or
woman? Sometimes it seems to be one, some-
times the other. There is a mystery here which
I cannot fathom.

One night I seemed to be reclining upon a
moonbeam, which means that the poet which
dwells in all men was awake in me. I seemed
to be reclining upon a moonbeam, and ecstasy
filled my heart. For the moment I had escaped

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1 68 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

the clutches of Time, and was living in that etheric
quietude which is merely the activity of rapture
raised to the last degree. I must have been en-
joying a foretaste of that paradoxical state which
the wise ones of the East call Nirvana.

I was vividly conscious of the moonbeam and
of myself, and in myself seemed to be everything
else in the universe. It was the nearest I ever
came to a realisation of that supreme declara-
tion, '^I am."

The past and the future seemed equally present
in the moment. Had a voice whispered that it
was yesterday, I should have acquiesced in the
assertion; had I been told that it was a million
years hence, I should have been also assentive.
But whether it was really yesterday or a million
years hence mattered not in the least. Perhaps
the Beautiful Being only comes to those for whom
the moment and eternity are one. I heard a voice
say:

"Brother, it is I."

There was no question in my mind as to who
had spoken. "It is I" can only be uttered in such
a voice by one whose individuality is so vast as
to be almost universal, one who has dipped in
the ocean of the All, yet who knows the minute
by reason of its own inclusiveness.

THE BEAUTIFUL BEING 1 69

Standing before me was the Beautiful Being,
radiant in its own light. Had it been less lovely
I might have gasped with wonder; but the very
perfection of its form and presence diffused an
atmosphere of calm. I marvelled not, because
the state of my consciousness was marvel. I was
lifted so far above the commonplace that I had
no standard by which to measure the experience
of that moment.

Imagine youth immortalisedi the fleeting made
eternal. Imagine the bloom of a child's face and
the eyes of the ages of knowledge. Imagine the
brilliancy of a thousand lives concentrated in
those eyes, and the smile upon the lips of a love
so pure that it asks no answering love from those
it smiles upon.

But the language of earth cannot describe the
unearthly, nor could the understanding of man
grasp in a moment those joys which the Beautiful
Being revealed to me in that hour of supreme life.
For the possibilities of existence have been wid-
ened for me, the meanings of the soul have deep-
ened. Those who behold the Beautiful Being are
never the same again as they were before. They
may forget for a time, and lose in the business
of living the. magic of that presence; but when-

lyo LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

ever they do remember, they are caught up again
on the wings of the former rapture.

It may happen to one who is living upon the
earth ; it may happen to one in the spaces between
the stars; but the experience must be the same
when it comes to all ; for only to one in the state
in which it dwells could the Beautiful Being reveal
itself at all.

A SONG OP THE BEAUTIFUL BEING

When you hear a rustling in the air^ listen again: there
may be something there.

When you feel a warmth mysterious and lovely in the
hearty there may be something there^ something
sent to you from a warm and lovely source.

When a joy unknown fills your beings and your soul
goes out^ out . . . toward some loved mystery^ yon
know not where^ know that the mystery itself is
reaching toward you with warm and loving, thou^
invisible^ arms.

We who live in the invisible are not invisible to each
other.

There are tender colours here and exquisite forms, and
the eye gloats on beauty never seen upon the eartk

THE BEAUTIFUL BEING I? I

Oi, fhe joy of simple life to be, and to sing in yoar soul
all day as the bird sings to its mate!

For you are singing to your mate whenever your soul
sings.

Did you faney it was only the spring-time that thrilled
you and moved you to listen to the rustling of
wings?

The spring-time of the heart is all time, and the autumn
may never come.

Listen! When the lark sings, he sings to you. When
the waters sing, they sing to you.

And as your heart rejoices, there is always another heart
somewhere that responds; and the soul of the lis-
tening heavens grows glad with the mother joy.

I am glad to be here, I am glad to be there. There is
beauty wherever I go.

Can you guess the reason, children of earth?

Come out and play with me in the daisy fields of space.
I will wait for you at the comer where the four
winds meet.

You will not lose your way, if you follow the gleam at
the end of the garden of hope.

172 LETTERS FKOM A LIVING DEAD MAN

There is music also beyond the roar of the earth as it
swishes through space:

There is music In keys unknown to the duller ears of
the earthy and harmonies whose chords are souls
attuned to each other.

Listen* • • . Do you hear tiiem?

Oh^ the ears are made for hearings and the eyes are
made for seeing^ and the heart is made for laving!

The hours go by and leave no mark^ and the years are
as sylphs that dance on the air and leave no foot-^
prints^ and the centuries march solenm and alow.

But we smile^ for joy is also in the solenm tread of the
centuries.

Joy, joy everywhere. It is for you and for me, and for
you as much as for me.

Will you meet me out where the four winds meet?

LETTER XXXVI

/" THE HOLLOW SPHERE

{

SOME time ago I started to write to you about
certain visits which I had made to the infer-
nal regions ; but I was called away, and the letter
was not finished. To-night I will take up the
story again.

You must know that there are many hells, and
they are mostly of our own making. That is one
of those platitudes which are based upon fact.

Desiring one day to see the particular kind of
hell to which a drunkard would be likely to go, I
sought that part of the hollow sphere around the
world which corresponds to one of those coun-
tries where drunkenness is most common. Souls,
when they come out, usually remain in the neigh-
bourhood where they have lived, unless there is
some strong reason to the contrary.

I had no difficulty in finding a hell full of drunk-
ards. What do you fancy they were doing? Re-
penting their sins ? Not at all. They were hover-

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174 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

ing around those places on earth where the fumes
of alcohol, and the heavier fumes of those who
over-indulge in alcohol, made sickening the at-
mosphere. It is no wonder that sensitive people
dislike the neighbourhood of drinking saloons.

You would draw back with disgust and refuse
to write for me should I tell you all that I saw.
One or two instances will suffice.

I placed myself in a S3rmpathetic and neutral
state, SO that I could see into both worlds.

A young man with restless eyes and a troubled
face entered one of those "gin palaces" in which
gilding and highly polished imitation mahogany
tend to impress the miserable wayfarer with the
idea that he is enjoying the luxury of the "king-
doms of this world." The young man's clothes
were threadbare, and his shoes had seen much
wear. A stubble of beard was on his chin, for
the price of a shave is the price of a drink, and
a man takes that which he desires most — ^when he
can get it.

He was leaning on the bar, drinking a glass of
some soul-destroying compound. And dose to
him, taller than he and bending over him, with
its repulsive, bloated, ghastly face pressed dose
to his, as if to smell his whisky-tainted breath,
was one of the most horrible astral beings which

THE HOLLOW SPHERE 1 75

I have seen in this world since I came out. The
hands of the creature (and I use that word to
suggest its vitality) — ^the hands of the creature
were clutching the young man's form, one long
and naked arm was around his shoulders, the
other around his hips. It was literally sucking
the liquor-soaked life of its victim, absorbing him,
using him, m the successful attempt to enjoy vi-
cariously the passion which death had intensi-
fied.

But was that a creature in hell ? you ask. Yes,
for I could look into its mind and see its suffer-
ings. For ever (the words "for ever'* may be
used of that which seems endless) this entity was
doomed to crave and crave and never to be satis-
fied.

There was in it just enough left of the mind
which had made it man — ^just enough to catch a
fitful glimpse now and then of the horror of its
own state. It had no desire to escape, but the
very consciousness of the impossibility of escape
was an added torment. And dread was in the
eyes of the thing — dread of the future into which
it could not look, but which it felt waiting to drag
it into that state of even greater suffering than
its present, when the astral particles of its form,
unable longer to hold together because of the ab-

176 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

sence of the unifying soul, would begin to rend
and tear what was left of the mind and astral
nerves — rending and tearing asunder, in terror
and pain, that shape whose end was at hand.

For only the soul endures, and that which the
soul deserts must perish and disintegrate.

And the young man who leaned on the bar in
that gilded palace of gin was filled with a name-
less horror and sought to leave the place; but
the arms of the thing that was now his master
clutched him tighter and tighter, the sodden, va-
porous cheek was pressed closer to his, the desire
of the vampire creature aroused an answering de-
sire in its victim, and the young man demanded
another glass.

Verily, earth and hell are neighbouring states,
and the frontier has never been charted.

I have seen hells of lust and hells of hatred;
hells of untruthfulness, where every object which
the wretched dweller tried to grasp turned into
something else which was a denial of the thing
desired, where truth was mocked eternally and
nothing was real, but everything — changing and
uncertain as untruthfulness — ^became its own an-
tithesis.

I have seen the anguished faces of those not
yet resigned to lies, have seen their frantic ef-

THE HOLLOW SPHERE l^^

forts to clutch reality, which melted in their grasp.
For the habit of untruthfulness, when carried into
this world of shifting shapes, surrounds the un-
truthful person with ever-changing images which
mock him and elude.

Would he see the faces of his loved ones ? The
promise is given, and as the faces appear they
turn into grinning furies. Would he grasp in
memory the prizes of ambition? They are shown
to be but disgrace in another form, and pride be-
comes weak shame. Would he clasp the hand of
friendship? The hand is extended — ^but in its
clutch is a knife which pierces the vitals of the
liar without destroying him, and the futile at-
tempt begins again, over and over, until the un-
easy conscience is exhausted.

Beware of deathbed repentance and its after-
harvest of morbid memories. It is better to go
into eternity with one's karmic burdens bravely
carried upon the back, rather than to slink
through the back door of hell in the stockinged-
feet of a sorry cowardice.

If you have sinned, accept the fact with
courage and resolve to sin no more; but he who
dwells upon his sins in his last hour will live them
over and over again in the state beyond the tomb.

Every act is followed by its inevitable reaction;

178 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

every cause is accompanied by its own effect,
which nothing — save the powerful dynamics of
Will itself — can modify; and when Will modi-
fies the effect of an antecedent cause, it is always
by setting up a counteracting and more powerful
cause than the first — a cause so strong that the
other is irresistibly carried along with it, as a
great flood can sweep a trickling stream of water
from an open hose-pipe, carrying the hose-pipe
cause and its trickling effect along with the rush-
ing torrent of its own flood.

If you recognise the fact that you have, sinned,
set up good actions more powerful than your sins,
and reap the reward for those.

There is much more to be said about hells, but
this is enough for to-night. At another time I
may return to the subject.

LETTER XXXVII

/'AN EMPTY CHINA CUP

IT is no won3erthat children, no matter how
old and experienced their souls, have to be
retaught in each life the relative values of all
things according to the artificial standards of the
world; for out here those values lose their mean-
ing.

That a soul had houses,, lands, and honours
among men does not increase his value in our
eyes. We cannot hope to profit by his discarded
riches. The soul in the "hereafter" builds its
own house, and the materials thereof are free as
air. If I use the house which another has built,
I miss the enjoyment of creating my own.

There is nothing worth stealing out here, so
no one trembles for fear of burglars in the night.
Even bores can be escaped by retiring to the very
centre of oneself, for a bore is himself too self-
centred ever to pierce to the centre of anyone else.

On earth you value titles, inherited or acquired;

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l8o LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

here a man's name is not of much importance
even to himself, and a visiting-card would be lost
through the cracks in the floor of heaven. No
footman angel would ever deliver it to his Lord
and Master.

One day I met a lady recently arrived. She
had not been here long enough to have lost her
assurance of superiority over ordinary men and
angels. That morning I had on my best Roman
toga, for I had been reliving the past; and the
lady, mistaking me for Caesar or some other an-
cient aristocrat, asked me to direct her to a place
where gentlewomen congregated.

I was forced to admit that I did not know of
any such resort; but as the visitor seemed lonely
and bewildered, I invited her to rest beside me
for a time and to question me if she wished.

**I have been here several months," I said,
"and have gained considerable experience."

It was plain to see that she was puzzled by
my remark. She glanced at my classical garment,
and I could feel her thinking that there was some-
thing incongruous between it and my assertion
that I had been here only a few months.

"Perhaps you are an actor," she said.

"We are all actors here," I replied.

This seemed to puzzle her more than ever,

AN EMPTY CHINA CUP l8l

and she said that she did not understand. Poor
^ ladyl I felt sorry for her, and I tried my best
to explain to her the conditions under which we
live.

"You must know in the first place," I said, "that
this is the land of realised ideals. Now a man
who has always desired to be a king can play the
part up here if he wishes to, and no one will laugh
at him ; for each spirit has some favourite dream
which he acts out to his own satisfaction.

"We have, madam," I continued, "reacquired
the tolerance and the courtesy of children who
never ridicule one another's play."

"Is heaven merely a play-room?" she asked, in
a shocked tone.

"Not at all," I answered; "but you are not in
heaven."

Her look of apprehension caused me immedi-
ately to add:

"Nor are you in hell, either. What was your
religion upon the earth?"

"Why, I professed the usual religion of my
country and station; but I never gave it much
thought."

"Perhaps the idea of purgatory is not unfa-
miUar to you."

1 82 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

''I am not a papist,'' she said, with some
warmth.

"Nevertheless, a papist in your position would
conceive himself to be in purgatory."

"I am certainly not happy," she admitted, "be-
cause everything is so strange."

"Have you no friends here?" I inquired.

"I must have many acquaintances," she said;
"but I never cared for intimate friendships. I
used to entertain a good deal; my husband's po-
litical position demanded it."

"Perhaps there is someone on this side to whom
you were specially kind at some time or other,
someone whose grief you helped to bear, whose
poverty you eased."

"I patronised our organised charities."

"I fear that sort of help is too impersonal to be
remembered here. Have you no children?"

"No."

"No brothers or sisters on this side?"

"I quarrelled with my only brother for marry-
ing beneath him."

"But surely," I said, "you must have had a
mother. Was she not waiting for you when you
came over?"

"No."

This surprised me, for I had been told that aO

AN EMPTY CHINA CUP 1 83

mother spirits who have not gone back to the
world know by a peculiar thrill when a child to
which they have given birth is about to be reborn
into the spiritual world — a sort of sympathetic
after-pain, the final and sweetest reward of
motherhood.

"Then she must have reincarnated," I said.

"Do you hold to that pagan belief?" the lady
inquired, with just a touch of superiority. "I
thought that only queer people, Theosophists and
such, believed in reincarnation."

"I was always queer," I admitted. "But you
know, of course, dear madam, that about three-
quarters of the earth's inhabitants are familiar
with that theory in some form or other."

We continued our talk for a little time, and
meanwhile I was puzzling my heart as to what I
could do to help this poor lonely woman, for
whom no one was waiting. I passed in mental
review this and that ministering angel of my ac-
quaintance, and wondered which of them would be
considered most correct from the conventional
earthly point ef view. The noblest of them was
usually at the side of. some newly arrived unfor-
tunate woman — to use a euphemism of that polite
society which my latest protegee had frequented.
The others were here, there, and everywhere, but

184 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

generally with those souls who needed them most;
while the need of my prsent companion was more
real than urgent. If Lionel had been here, he
might have entertained her for a while.

I wished that I had cultivated the acquaintance
of some of those ladies who crochet and gossip
in this world as they crocheted and gossipped in
yours. Do not be shocked. Did you fancy that
a lifelong habit could be laid aside in a moment?
As women on earth dream often of their knitting,
so they do here. It is as easy to knit in this world
as it is to dream in yours.

Understand that the world in which I now live
is no more essentially sacred than is the world
in which you live, nor is it any more mysterious
to those who dwell in it. To the serious soul
all conditions are sacred — except those that are
profane, and both are found out here as well as
on the earth.

But to return to the lonely woman. I was still
wondering what I should do with her when, look-
ing up, I saw the Teacher approaching. He had
with him another woman, as like the first as
one empty china cup is like another empty china
cup. Then he and I went away and left the two
together.

"I did not know," I said to the Teacher, "that

AN EMPTY CHINA CUP 1 85

you troubled yourself with any souls but those of
considerable development."

He smiled:

"It was your perplexity which I came to re-
lieve, not that of those poor ladies.**

Then he began to talk to me about relative
values.

"In a sense," he said, "one soul is as much
worth helping as another; in a deeper sense, per-
haps it is not. Do not think that I am indifferent
to the sufferings of the weakest ones because I
give my time and attention to the strong. Like
the ministering angels, I go where I am most
needed. Only the strong ones can learn what I
have to teach. The weak ones are the charges
of the Messiahs and their followers. But, never-
theless, between us and the Messiahs there is
brotherhood and there is mutual understanding.
Each works in his own field. The Messiahs help
the many; we help the few. Their reward in love
is greater than ours ; but we do not work for re-
ward any more than they do. Each follows the
law of his being.

"To be loved by all men a teacher must be
known to all men, and we reveal ourselves only
to a few chosen ones. Why do we not go the way
of the Messiahs? Because the balance must be

1 86 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD NfAN

maintained. For every great worker in the sig^t
of men there is another worker out of sight
Which kind of teacher is of greater value? The
question is out of order. The North and the
South are interdependent, and there are two poles
to every magnet"

LETTER XXXVIII

/ WHERE TIME IS NOT

I THINK you now understand from what I
have said that not all the souls who have
passed the airy frontier are either in heaven or
hell. Few reach an extreme, and most live out
their allotted period here as they lived out their
allotted period on earth, without realising either
the possibilities or the significance of their con-
dition.

Wisdom is a tree of slow growth; the rings
around its trunk are earthly lives, and the grooves
between are the periods between the lives. Who
grieves that an acorn is slow in becoming an oak?
It is equally unphilosophical to feel that the truth
which I have endeavoured to make you under-
stand — the truth of the soul's great leisure — is
necessarily sad. If a man were to become an
archangel in a few years' time, he would suffer
terribly from growing-pains. The Law is im-
placable, but it often seems to be kind.

187

1 88 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

Nevertheless there are many souls in heaven,
and there are many heavens, of which I have
seen a few.

But do not fancy that most people go from
place to place and from state to state as I do.
The things which I describe to you are not excep-
tional; but that one man should be able to see
and describe so many things is exceptional indeed.
I owe it largely to the Teacher. Without his
guidance I could not have acquired so rich an
experience.

Yes, there are many heavens. Last night I felt
the yearning for beauty which sometimes came
to me on earth. One of the strangest phenomena
of this ethereal world is the tremendous attrac-
tion by sympathy — ^the attraction of events, I
mean. Desire a thing intensely enough, an,d you
are on the way to it. A body of a feather's
weight moves swiftly when propelled by a free
will.

I felt a yearning for beauty, which is a syno-
nym for heaven. Did I really move from my
place, or did heaven come to me? I cannot say,
space means so little here. For every vale with-
out there is a vale within. We desire a place,
and we are there. Perhaps the Teacher could
give you a scientific explanation of this, but I can-

WHEKE TIME IS NOT 19$

not nt the momerft. And then, I want to tell you
about that heaven where I was last night. It wasi
sd beautiful that the charm of it is over me still.

I saw a double row of dark-topped treesf, like
qrpresses, and at the end of this long avenue doWrt
which I passed was a softly diffused light. Some-*
\;^hcre I have read of a heaven lighted by a thou-
sand suns, but my heaven was not like that The
light as I approached it was softer than moon-
light, though clearer. Perhaps the light of the
sun would shine as softly if seen through many
veils of alabaster. Yet this light seemed to come
from nowhere. It simply was.

As I approached I saw two beings walking
towards me, hand in hand. There was such a
look of happiness on their faces as one never sees
on the faces of earth. Only a spirit unconscious
of time could look like that.

I should say that these two were man and
woman, save that they seemed so different from
what f ou^tinderstand by man and woman. They
did not S/tn look at each other as they walked;
the touch of the hand seemed to make them so
much one, that the realisation of the eye could
have added nothing to their content. Like the
light which came from nowhere, they simply were.

A fittle farther on I saw a group of bright-

190 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

robed children dancing among flowers. Hand in
hand in a ring they danced, and their garments,
which were like the petals of flowers, moved with
the rhythm of their dancing limbs. A great joy
filled my heart. They, too, were unconscious of
time, and might have been dancing there from
eternity, for all I knew. But whether their glad-
ness was of the moment or of the ages had no
significance for me or for them. Like the light,
and like the lovers who had passed me hand in
hand, they were, and that was enough.

I had left the avenue of cypresses and stood in
a wide plain, encircled by a forest of blossoming
trees. The odours of spring were on the air, and
birds sang. In the centre of the plain a great
circular fountain played with the waters, tossing
them in the air, whence they descended in feathery
spray. An atmosphere of inexpressible charm
was over everything. Here and there in this cir-
cular flower-scented heaven walked angelic beings,
many or most of whom must some time have been
human. Two by two they walked, or in groups,
smiling to themselves or at one another.

On earth you often use the word "peace** ; but
compared with the peace of that place the great-
est peace of earth is only turmoil. I realised

WHERE TIME IS NOT igt

that I was in one of the fairest heavens, but that
I was alone there.

No sooner had this thought of solitude found
lodgment in my heart than I saw standing be-
fore me the Beautiful Being about whom I
wrote you a little time ago. It smiled, and said to
me:

''He who is sadly conscious of his solitude is no
longer in heaven. So I have come to hold you
here yet a little while."

"Is this the particular heaven where you
dwell?" I asked.

"Oh, I dwell nowhere and everywhere," the
Beautiful Being answered. "I am one of the vol-
untary wanderers, who find the charm of home
in every heavenly or earthly place."

"So you sometimes visit earth?"

"Yes, even the remotest hells I go to, but I
never stay there long. My purpose is to know
all things, and yet to remain unattached."

"And do you love the earth?"

"The earth is one of my playgrounds. I sing
to the children of earth sometimes; and when I
sing to the poets, they believe that their muse is
with them. Here is a song which I sang one night
to a soul which dwells among men :

igZ LETTERS FROM A LIVINQ DEAD MAN
"My mMter, I am often with you wben you realise it not.

For me a poet soul is a well of water in whose deeps I
can see myself reflected.

I live in a glamour of light and colour^ which yon mortal
poets vainly try to express in magic words,

I am in the smiset and in the star; I watched the moon
grow old and you grow young.

In childhood you sought for me in the swiftly moving
cloud; in maturity you fancied you had caught me
in the gleam of a lover's eye; but I am the eluder
of men.

I beckon and I fly^ and the touch of my feet does not
press down the heads of the blossoming daisies.

You can find me and lose me again^ for mortal cannot
hold me.

I am nearest to those who seek beauty — ^whether in
thought or in form; I fly from those who seek to
imprison me.

You can come each day to the region where I dwelL

Sometimes you will meet me^ sometimes not; for my will
is the wind's will, and I answer no beckoning fin-
ger:

WHEMfe TIME IS NOT 1 93

But Wh^ I beckon^ thi$ 65als codiei flying from the i6at
comers of heat^^

Tout soul comes flyings too; for you are one of those 1
have called by the spell of my magic.

I have use for joUy and you have meaning for me ; t like
to see your soul in its hours of dream and ecstasy.

Whenever one of my own dreams a dream of Paradise^
the light grows brighter for me^ to whom all things
are bright.

Oh^ forget not the eharm of the moment^ forget not the
lure of the mood !

For the mood is wiser than all the magi of eartli^ and
the treasures of the moment are richer and rarer
than the hoarded wealth of the ages.

The moment is real^ while the age is only a delusion, a
memory, and a shadow.

Be sure that each moment is all, and the moment is more
than time.

Time carries an hour-glass, and his step is slow; his hair
is white with the rime of years, and his scythe is
dull with unwearied mowing;

194 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

But he nerer yet has caught the moment in its flight.
He has grown old in casting nets for it.

Ah^ the magic of life and of the endless combination of
living things !

I was young when the sun was formed^ and I shall be
young when the moon falls dead in the arms of her
daughter the earth.

Will you not be young with me? The dust is as noth-
ing: the soul is all.

Like a crescent moon on the surface of a lake of water
is the moment of love's awakening;

Like a faded flower in the lap of the tired world is the
moment of love's death.

But there is love and Love^ and the love of the light for
its radiance is the love of souls for each other.

There is no death where the inner light shines^ irradiat-
ing the fields of the within — the beyond — ^the unat-
tainable attainment.

You know where to find me.

9»

LETTER XXXIX

THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH

MANY times during the months in which I
have been here have I seen men and
women lying in a state of unconsciousness more
profound than the deepest sleep, their faces ex-
pressionless and uninteresting. At first, before I
understood the nature of their sleep, I tried as
an experiment to awaken one or two of them, and
was not successful. In certain cases where my
curiosity was aroused, I have returned later, day
after day, and found them still lying in the same
lethargy.

"Why," I asked myself, "should any man sleep
like that — a sleep so deep that neither the spoken
word nor the physical touch could arouse him?"

One day when the Teacher was with me we
passed one of those unconscious men whom I had
seen before, had watched, and had striven unsuc-
cessfully to arouse.

I9S

196 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

"Who are these people who sleep like that?"
I asked the Teacher; and he replied:

"They are those who in their earth life denied
the immortality of the soul after death."

"How terrible 1" I said. "And will they never
awaken?"

"Yes, perhaps centuries, perhaps ages hence,
when the irresistible law of rhythm shall draw
them out of their sleep into incarnation. For
the law of rebirth is one with the law of

rhythm."

"Would it not be possible to awaken one of
fhemj this man, for instance ?"

"Yqu have attempted it, have you not?" the
Teacher inquired, with a keen look into my face.

"Yes," I admitted.

"And you failed?"

"Yes."

We looked at each other for a moment, then
I said:

"Perhaps you, with your greater power and
knowledge, could succeed where I have failed."

He made no answer. His silence fired my inter-
est still farther, and I said eagerly:

"Will you not try? Will you not awaken this
man?"

"You know not what you ask," he replied.

THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 1 97

"But tell me this," I demanded: "could you
awaken him?"

"Perhaps. But in order to counteract the law
which holds him in sleep, the law of the spell he
laid upon his own soul when he went out of life
den^anding unconsciousness and annihilation — ^in
order to counteract that law, I should have to put
in operation a law still stronger."

"And that is?" I asked.

"Will," he answered, "the potency of will."

"Could you?"

"As I said before — ^perhaps."

"And will you?"

"Again I say that you know not what you ask."

"Will you please explain?" I persisted, "for
indeed this seems to me to be one of the most
marvellous things which I have seen."

The face of the Teacher was very grave, as he
answered :

"What good has this man done in the past that
I should place myself between him and the law of
cause and effect which he has wilfully set in opera-
tion?"

"I do not know his past," I said.

**Then," the Teacher demanded, "will you tell
me your reason for asking me to do this thing?"

**My reason?"

it'
lit

198 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

"Yes. Is it pity for this man's unfortunate con-
dition, or is it scientific curiosity on your part?"

I should gladly have been able to say that it was
pity for the man's sad state which moved me so;
but one does not juggle with truth or with motives
when speaking to such a Teacher, so I admitted
that it was scientific curiosity.

"In that case," he said, "I am justified in using
him as a demonstration of the power of the
trained will."

'It will not harm him, will it?"
'On the contrary. And though he may suffer
shock, it will probably be the means of so impress-
ing his mind that never again, even in future lives
on earth, can he believe himself, or teach others
to believe, that death ends everything. As far as
he is concerned, he does not deserve that I should
waste upon him so great an amount of energy as
will be necessary to arouse him from this sleep,
this spell which he laid upon himself ages ago.
But if I awaken him, it will be for your sake, 'that
you may believe.' "

I wish I could describe the scene which took
place, so that you could see it with the eyes of
your imagination. There lay the man at our feet,
his face colourless and expressionless, and above
him towered the splendid form of the Teacher,

THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 1 99

his face beautiful with power, his eyes brilliant
with thought.

"Can you not see," asked the Teacher, "a faint
light surrounding this seemingly lifeless figure?"

"Yes, but the light is very faint indeed."

"Nevertheless," said the Teacher, "that light
is far less faint than is this weak souFs hold upon
the eternal truth. But where you see only a pale
light around the recumbent form, I see in that
light many pictures of the soul's past. I see that
he not only denied the immortality of the soul's
consciousness, but that he taught his doctrine of
death to other men and made them even as him-
self. Truly he does not deserve that I should try
to awaken him 1"

"Yety ^ will do it?"

"Yes, I will do it."

I regret that I am not permitted to tell you by
what form of words and by what acts my Teacher
succeeded, after a mighty effort, in arousing that
man from his self-imposed imitation of annihila-
tion. I realised as never before — ^not only the
personal power of the Teacher, but the irresistible
power of a trained and directed will.

I thought of that scene recorded in the New
Testament, where Jesus said to the dead man in
the tomb, "Lazarus, come forth 1"

200 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

"The soul of man is immortal," declared the
Teacher, looking fixedly into the shrinking eyes
of the awakened man and holding them by his
wiU.

"The soul of man is immortal," he repeated.
Then in a tone of command :

"Stand up 1"

The man struggled to his feet. Though his
body was light as a feather, as are all our bodies
here, I could see that his slumbering energy was
still almost too dormant to permit of that really
slight exertion.

"You live," declared the Teacher. "You have
passed through death, and you live. Do not dare
to deny that you live. You cannot deny it."

"But I do not believe " began the man, his

stubborn materialism still challenging the truth of
his own existence, his memory surviving the or-
deal through which he had passed. This last sur-
prised me more than anything else. But after a
moment's stupefaction I understood that it was
the power of the Teacher's mental picture of the
astral records round this soul which had forced
those memories to awaken.

"Sit down between us two," said the Teacher
to the newly aroused man, "and let us reason to*
gether. You thought yourself a great reasoner,

THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 201

did you not, when you walked the earth as So-and*
so?"

"I did."

"You see that you were mistaken in your
reasoning," the Teacher went on, **for you cer-
tainly passed through death, and you are now
alive."

"But where am I?" He looked about him in a
bewildered way. "Where am I, and who are
you?".

"You are in efemity," replied the Teacher,
"where you always have been and always will be."

"And you?"

"I am one who knows the workings of the
Law."

"What law?"

*'The law of rhythm, which drives the soul into
and out of gross matter, as it drives the tides of
the ocean into flood and ebb, and the conscious-
ness of man into sleeping and waking."

"And it was you who awakened me? Are you,
then, this law of rhythm?"

The Teacher smiled.

"I am not the law," he said, "but I am bound
by it, even as you, save as I am temporarily able
to transcend it by my will — again, even as you."

I caught my breath at the profundity of this

202 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

simple answer, but the man seemed not to observe
its Significance. Even as he 1 Why, this man by
his misdirected will had been able temporarily to
transcend the law of immortality, even as the
Teacher by his wisely directed will transcended
the mortal in himself I My soul sang within me
at this glimpse of the godlike possibilities of the
human mind.

"How long have I been asleep?" demanded
the man.

"In what year did you die?" the Teacher asked.

"In the year 1817."

"And the present year is known, according to
the Christian calendar, as the year 19 12. You
have lain in a death-like sleep for ninety-five
years."

"And was it really you who awakened me ?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because it suited my good pleasure," was the
Teacher's rather stern reply. "It was not because
you deserved to be awakened."

"And how long would I have slept if you had
not aroused me?"

"I cannot say. Probably until those who had
started even with you had left you far behind on

THE DOCTRINE OF DEATH 203

the road of evolving life. Perhaps for centuries,
perhaps for ages."

"You have taken a responsibility upon your-
self," said the man.

"You do not need to remind me of that,'* re-
plied the Teacher. "I weighed in my own mind
the full responsibility and decided to assume it
for a purpose of my own. For will is free."

"Yet you overpowered my will."

"I did; but by my own more potent will, more
potent because wisely directed and backed by a
greater energy."

"And what are you going to do with me?"

"I am going to assume the responsibility of
your training."

"My training?"

"Yes."

"And you will make things easy for me?"

"On the contrary, I shall make things very hard
for you; but you cannot escape my teaching."

"Shall you instruct me personally?"

"Personally in the sense that I shall place you
under the instruction of an advanced pupil of my
own."

"Who? This man here?" He pointed to me.

"No. He is better occupied. I will take you
to your teacher presently."

204 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD NfAN

"And what wiD he show me ?*'

"The panorama of immortality. And when
you have learned the lesson so that you can never
forget nor escape it, you will have to go back to
the earth and teach it to others ; you will have to
convert as many men to the truth of immortality
as you have in the past deluded and misled by
your false doctrines of materialism and death.''

"And what if I refuse? You have said that
will is free."

*'Do you refuse?"

"No, but what if I had?"

"Then, instead of growing and developing
under the law of action and reaction, which in
the East they call karma, you would have been
its victim."

"I do not understand you."

"He is indeed a wise man," said the Teacher,
"who understands the law of karma, which is
also the law of cause and effect. But come. I
will now take you to your new instructor."

Then, leaving me alone, the Teacher and his
charge disappeared in the grey distance.

I remained there a long time, pondering what I
had seen and heard.

LETTER XL

THE CELESTIAL HIERARCHY

I AM about to say something which may shock
certain persons ; but those who are too fond
of their own ideas, without being willing to grant
others their ideas in turn, should not seek to open
the jealously guarded doors which separate the
land of the so-called living from the land of the
certainly not dead.

This is the statement which I have to make:
that there are many gods, and that the One God
is the sum-total of all of them. All gods exist
in God. Do what you like with that statement,
dear world, for truth Is more vital than any-
body's dream, even yours or mine.

Have I seen God? I have seen Him who has
been called the Son of God, and you may remem-
ber that He said that whoever had seen the Son
had seen the Father.

But what of the other gods? you ask; for
there are many In the world's pantheons. Well,
the realities exist out here.

205

206 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

What I you say again, can man create the gods
of his imagination and give them a place in the
invisible ? No. They existed here first, and man
became aware of them long ago through his own
psychic and spiritual perception of them. Man
did not create them, and the materialists who
say that he did know little of the laws of being.
Man, primitive man, perceived them through his
own spiritual affinities with and nearness to them.

When you have read folk-tales of this god and
that, you have perhaps spoken patronisingly of
the old myth-makers and thanked your lucky stars
that you lived in a more enlightened age. But
those old story-tellers were the really enlightened
ones, for they saw into the other world and re-
corded what they saw.

Many of the world's favourite gods are said
to have lived upon the earth as men. They have
so lived. Does that idea startle you?

How does a man become a god, and how does
a god become a man? Have you ever wondered?
A man becomes a god by developing god-con-
sciousness, which is not the same as developing
his own thought about God. During recent years
you have heard and read much of so-called Mas-
ters, men of superhuman attainments, who have
forgone the small pleasures and recognitions

THE CELESTIAL HIERARCHY 207

of the world in order to achieve something
greater.

Man's ideas of the gods change as the gods
themselves change, for "everything is becoming,"
as Heraclitus said about twenty-four centuries
ago. Did you fancy that the gods stood still,
and that only you progressed? In that case you
might some day outstrip your god, and fall to
worshipping yourself, having nothing to look up
to as superior.

Accompanied by the Teacher, I have stood face
to face with some of the older gods. Had I come
out here with a superior contempt for all gods
save my own, I should hardly have been granted
that privilege; for the gods are as exclusive as
they are inclusive, and they only reveal themselves
to those who can see them as they are.

Does this open the door to polytheism, pan-
theism, or other dreaded isms? An ism is only
a word. Facts are. The day is past when men
were burned at the stake for having had a vision
of the wrong god. But even now I would hesi-
tate to tell all that I have learned about the gods,
though I can tell you much.

Take, for instance, the god whom the Romans
called Neptune. Did you fancy that he was only
a poetic creation of the old myth-makers? He

208 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

was something more than that. He was supposed
to rule the ocean. Now, what could be more
orderly and inevitable than that the work of con-
trolling the elements and the floods should be as-
sumed by, and the work parcelled out among,
those able to perform it? We hear much of the
laws of Nature. Who enforces them? The
term "natural law" is in every man's mouth, but
the Law has executors in heaven as on earth.

I have been told that there are also planetary
beings, planetary gods, though I have never had
the honour of conscious communion with one of
them. If a planetary being is so far beyond the
daring of my approach, how should I comport
myself in approaching the God of gods?

paradoxical mind of man, which stands in
awe and trembling before the servant, yet ap-
proaches the master without fear!

1 have been told that the guardian spirit of
this planet Earth evolved himself into a god of
tremendous power and responsibility in bygone
cycles of existence. To him who has ever used
a microscope the idea need not be appalling. The
infinitely small and the infinitely great are the
tail and the head of the Eternal Serpent.

Who do you fancy will be the gods of the fu-
ture cycles of existence? Will they not be those

THE CELESTIAL HIERARCHY 209

who in this cycle of planetary life have raised
themselves above the mortal? Will they not be
the strongest and most sublime among the pres-
ent spirits of men? Even the gods must have
their resting period, and those in office now would
doubtless wish to be supplanted.

To those men who are ambitious for growth,
the doors of development are always open.

THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN

I HAVE written you before of one whom I
call the Beautiful Being, one whose province
seems to be the universe, whose chosen com-
panions are all men and angelkind, whose play-
things are days and ages.

Tor sonie reason, the Beautiful Being has lately
been so gracious as to take an interest in my ef-
forts to acquire knowledge, and has shown me
many things which otherwise I should never have
seen.

When a tour of the planet is personally con-
ducted by an angel, the traveller is specially fa-
voured. Letters of introduction to the great and
powerful of earth are nothing compared with this
introduction, for by its means I see into the souls
of all beings, and my visits to their houses arc
not limited to the drawing-rooms. The Beautiful
Being has access everywhere.

210

THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 211

Did you ever fancy when you had had a lovely
dream that maybe an angel had kissed you in
your sleep? I have seen such things.

Oh, do not be afraid of giving rein to your
imagination! It is the wonderful things which
are really true ; the commonplace things are nearly
all false. When a great thought lifts you by the
hair, do not cling hold of the solid earth. Let
go. He whom an inspiration seizes might even
— ^if he dared to trust his vision — ^behold the
Beautiful Being face to face, as I have. When
flying through the air one's sight is keen. If
one goes fast and high enough, one may behold
the inconceivable.

The other night I was meditating on a flower-
seed, for there is nothing so small that it may
not contain a world. I was meditating on a
flower-seed, and amusing myself by tracing its
history, generation by generation, back to the
dawn of time. I smile as I use that figure, **the
dawn of time," for time has had so many dawns
and so many sunsets, and still it is unwearied.

I had traced the genealogy of the seed back
to the time when the cave-man forgot his fight-
ing in the strangely disturbing pleasure of smelling
the fragrance of its parent flower, when I heard
a low musical laugh in my left ear, and something

212 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

as light as a butterfly's wing brushed my cheek
on that side.

I turned to look, and, quick as a flash, I heard
the laughter in the other ear, while another but-
terfly touch came on my right cheek. Then some-
thing like a veil was blown across my eyes, and
a dear voice said:

"Guess who it isl"

I was all a-thrill with the pleasure of this di-
vine play, and I answered:

"Perhaps you are the fairy that makes blind
children dream of daisy fields.''

"However did you know me?" laughed the
Beautiful Being, unwinding the veil from my eyes.
"I am indeed that fairy. But you must have
been peeping through cracks in the door when I
touched the eyes of the blind babies."

"I am always peeping through cracks in the
door of the earth people's chamber," I replied.

The Beautiful Being laughed again:

"Will you come and have another peep with
me this evening?"

"With pleasure."

"You could not do it with pain if I were by,"
was the response.

And we started then and there upon the strang-
est evening's round which I have ever made.

THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 213

We began by going to the house of a friend of
mine and standing quietly in the room where he
and his family were at supper. No one saw us
but the cat, which began a loud purring and
stretched itself with joy at our presence. Had I
gone there alone, the cat might have been afraid
of me; but who— even a cat— could fear the
Beautiful Being?

Suddenly one of the children — the youngest
one — looked up from his supper of bread and
milk, and said:

"Father, why does milk taste good?"

"I really do not know," admitted the author
of his being, "perhaps because the cow enjoyed
givmg It.

"That father might have been a poet," the
Beautiful Being said to me; but no one overheard
the remark.

One of the other children complained of feel-
ing sleepy, and put his head down on the edge
of the table. The mother started to arouse him,
but the Beautiful Being fluttered a mystifying veil
before her eyes, and she could not do it.

"Let him sleep if he wants to," she said. "I
will put him to bed by and by."

I could see in the brain of the child that he

214 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

was dreaming already, and I knew that the Beau-
tiful Being was weaving a fairy-tale on the web
of his mind. After only a moment he started up,
wide awake.

"I dreamed," he said, "that [the writer

of these letters] was standing over there and
smiUng at me as he used to smile, and with him
was an angel. I never saw an angel before.''

"Come away," whispered the Beautiful Being
to me. "From dreaming children nothing can be
hidden."

We then paid a visit to the future mother of
my boy Lionel. Oh, mystery of maternity I The
eyes of the Beautiful Being were like stars as we
gazed upon this other flower-seed, whose geneal-
ogy goes even beyond the days of the cave-man
— aye, back to the time of the fire-mist and the
sons of the morning stars.

"Come away!" said the Beautiful Being again.
"To brides who dream of motherhood much also
is revealed, and for this evening we remain un-
known."

We passed along the margin of a river which
divides a busy town. Suddenly from a house by
the river-bank we heard the tinkle of a guitar and
a woman's sweet voice singing:

THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 2 1 5,

''When other lips and other hearts
Their tale of love shall tell^ . . .
Then you'll remember — ^you'll remember me.**

The Beautiful Being touched my hand and
whispered :

''The life that is so sweet to these mortals is
a book of enchantment for me/'

"Yet you have never tasted human life your-
self?"

"On the contrary, I taste it every day; but I
only taste it — and pass on. Should I consume it,
I might not be able to pass on/'

"But do you never long so to consume it?"

"Oh, but the thrill is in the taste 1 Digestion
is a more or less tiresome process."

"I fear you are a divine wanton," I said, af-
fectionately.

"Be careful," answered the Beautiful Being.
"He who fears anything will lose me in the fog
of his own fears."

"You irresistible onel" I cried. "Who are
you ? What are you ?"

"Did you not say yourself a little while ago
that I was the fairy who made blind babies dream
of daisy fields?"

2l6 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

**I love you," I said, "with an incomprehensi-
ble love."

"All love is incomprehensible," the Beautiful
Being answered. "But come, brother, let us climb
the hill of vision. When you are out of breath,
if you catch at my flying veil I will wait till you
are rested."

Strange things we saw that night. I should
weary you if I told you all of them.

We stood on the crater of an active volcano
and watched the dance of the fire-spirits. Did you
fancy that salamanders were only seen by unab-
stemious poets? They are as real — ^to themselves
and to those who see them — as are the omnibus-
drivers in the streets of London.

The real and the unreal I If I were writing
an essay now, instead of the narrative of a travel-
ler in a strange country, I should have much to
say on the subject of the real and the unreal.

The Beautiful Being has changed my ideas
about the whole universe. I wonder if, when I
come back to the earth again, I shall remember
all the marvels I have seen. Perhaps, like most
people, I shall have forgotten the details of my
life before birth, and shall bring with me only
vague yearnings after the inexpressible, and the
deep unalterable conviction that there are more

THE DARLING OF THE UNSEEN 217

things in earth and heaven than are dreamed of
in the philosophy of the world's people. Per-
haps if I almost remember, but not quite, I shall
be a poet in my next life. Worse things might
happen to me.

What an adventure it is, this launching of one's
barque upon the sea of rebirth!

But by my digressions one would say that I
was in my second childhood. So I am— my sec-
ond childhood in the so-called invisible.

When, on my voyage that night with the Beauti-
ful Being, I had feasted my eyes upon beauty until
they were weary, my companion led me to scenes
on the earth which, had I beheld them alone,
would have made me very sad. But no one can
be sad when the Beautiful Being is near. That
is the charm of that marvellous entity: to be in
its presence is to taste the joys of immortal life.

We looked on at a midnight revel in what you
on earth would call "a haunt of vice." Was I
shocked and horrified? Not at all. I watched
the antics of those human animalculas as a scien-
tist might watch the motions of the smaller liv-
ing creatures in a drop of water. It seemed to
me that I saw it all from the viewpoint of the
stars. I started to say from the viewpoint of
God, to whom small and great are the same; but

21 8 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

perhaps the stellar simile is the truer one, for
how can we judge of what God sees — unless we
mean the god in us ?

You who read what I have written, perhaps
when you come out here you will have many sur-
prises. The small things may seem larger and
the large things smaller, and everything may take
its proper place in the infinite plan, of which even
your troubles and perplexities are parts, inen-
table and beautiful.

That idea came to me as I wandered from
heaven to earth, from beauty to ugliness, with
my angelic companion.

I wish I could explain the influence of the Beau-
tiful Being. It is unlike anything else in the uni-
verse. It is elusive as a moonbeam, yet more
sjmipathetic than a mother. It is daintier than a
rose, yet it looks upon ugly things with a smile.
It is purer than the breath of the sea, yet it seems
to have no horror of impurity. It is artless as a
child, yet wiser than the ancient gods, a marvel
of paradoxes, a celestial vagabond, the darling of
the unseen.

LETTER XLII

A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT

THE other day I met an acquaintanciei a
woman whom I had known for a number
of years, and who came out about the time I did.

Old acquaintances when they meet here greet
each other about as they did on earth. Though
we are, as a rule, less conventional than you, still
we cling more or less to our former habits.

I asked Mrs. how she was enjoying her-
self, and she said that she was not having a very
pleasant time. She found that everybody was
interested in something else, and did not want to
talk ^th her.

This was the first time I had met with' such a
complaint, and I was struck by its peculiarity. I
asked her to what cause she attributed this unso-
ciability, and she replied that she did not know
the cause, that it had puzzled her.

"What do you talk to them about?" I asked.

219

220 LETTERS FROM A LIVING IJEAD MAN

**Why, I tell them my troubles, as one friead
tells another; but they do not seem to be inter-
ested. How selfish people are !"

Poor soul ! She did not realise here, any more
than she had on earth, that our troubles are not
interesting to anybody but ourselves.

"Suppose," I said, "that you unburden your-
self to me. Tell me your troubles. I will prom-
ise not to run away."

"Why, I hardly know where to begin!" she
answered. "I have found so many unpleasant
things."

"What, for instance?"

"Why, horrid people. I remember that when

I lived in I sometimes told myself that in

the other world I would not be bothered with
boarding-house landladies and their careless hired
girls ; but they are just as bad here — even worse."

"Do you mean to tell me that you live in a
boarding-house here?"

"Where should I live? You know that I am
not rich."

Of all the astonishing things I had heard in
this land of changes, this was the most astonish-
ing. A boarding-house in the "invisible" world!
Surely, I told myself, my observations had been
limited. Here was a new discovery.

A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 221

"Is the table good in your boarding-house?"
I asked.

"No, it is worse than at the last one."

"Are the meals scanty?"

"Yes, scanty and bad, especially the coffee."

"Will you tell me," I said, my wonder grow-
ing, "if you really eat three meals a day here, as
you used to do on earth?"

"How strangely you talkl" she answered, in
a sharp tone. "I don't find very much difference
between this place and the earth, as you call it,
except that I am more uncomfortable here, be-
cause everything is so flighty and uncertain."

"Yes, go on."

"I never know in the morning who will be sit-
ting next me in the evening. They come and go."

"And what do you eat?"

"The same old things — ^meat and potatoes, and
pies and puddings."

"And you still eat these things?"

"Why, yes; don't you?"

I hardly knew how to reply. Had I told her
what my life here really was, she would no more
have understood than she would have understood
two years ago, when we lived in the same city on
earth, had I told her then what my real mental
life was. So I said :

222 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

"I have not much appetite.*'

She looked at me as if she distrusted me in
some way, though why I could not say.

"Are you still interested in philosophy?*' she
asked.

"Yes. Perhaps that is why I don't get hungry
very often."

"You were always a strange man."

"I suppose so. But tell me, Mrs. , do you

never feel a desire to leave all this behind?"

"To leave all what behind?"

"Why, boarding-houses and uncongenial peo-
ple, and meat and potatoes, and pies and pud-
dings, and the shadows of material things in gen-
eral."

"What do you mean by 'the shadows of ma-
terial things' ?"

"I mean that these viands and pastries, which
you eat and do not enjoy, are not real. They
have no real existence."

"Why I" she exclaimed, "have you become a
Christian Scientist?"

At this I laughed heartily. Was one who de-
nied the reality of astral food in the astral world
a ChHstian Scientist, because the Christian Sci-
entists denied the reality of material food in the
material world? The analogy tickled my fancy.

A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 223

"Let me convert you to Christian Sciencei
then/' I said.

"No, sirl" was her sharp response. "You
never succeeded in convincing me that there was
any truth in your various fads and philosophies.
And now you tell me that the food I eat is not
real."

I puzzled for a moment, trying to find a way
by which the actual facts of her condition could
be brought home to the mind of this poor woman.
Finally I hit upon the right track.

"Do you realise," I said, "that you are only
dreaming?"

"Whatl" she snapped at me.

"Yes, you are dreaming. All this is a dream —
these boarding-houses, et cetera/'

"If that is so, perhaps you would like to wake
me up."

"I certainly should. But you will have to
awaken yourself, I fancy. Tell me, what were
your ideas about the future life, biefore you came
out here?"

"What do you mean by out heref

"Why, before you died 1"

"But, man, I am not deadl"

'*0f course you are not dead. Nobody is dead.

%%4 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

But you certainly understand that you have
changed your condition."

''Yes, I have noticed a change, and a change
for the worse."

"Don't you remember your last illness?"

"Yes-"

"And that you passed out?"

"Yes, if you call it that."

"You know that you have left your body?"

She looked down at her form, which appeared
as usual, even to its rusty black dress rather out
of date.

"But I still have my body," she said.

"Then you have not missed the other one?"

"No."

"And you don't know where it is?"

My amazement was growing deeper and
deeper. Here was a phenomenon I had not met
before.

"I suppose," she said, "that they must have
buried my body, if you say I left it; but this one
is just the same to me."

"Has it always seemed the same?" I asked,
remembering my own experiences when I .first
came out, my difficulty in adjusting the amount
of energy I used to the lightness of my new body.

"Now you mention it," she said, "I do recall

A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 225

having some trouble a year or two ago. I was
quite confused for a long time. I think I must
have been delirious.**

"Yes, doubtless you were/' I answered. "But

tell me, Mrs. , have you no desire to visit

heaven?"

"Why, I always supposed that I should visit
heaven when I died; but, as you see, I am not
dead."

"Still," I said, "I can take you to heaven now,
perhaps, if you would like to go."

"Are you joking?"

"Not at all. Will you come?"

"Are you certain that I can go there without
dying?"

"But I assure you there are no dead^

As we went slowly along, for I thought it best
not to hurry her too swiftly from one condition
to another, I drew a word-picture of the place
we were about to visit — the orthodox Christian
heaven. I described the happy and loving people
who stood in the presence of their Saviour, in
the soft radiance from the central Light.

"Perhaps," I said, "some dwellers in that coun-
try see the face of God Himself, as they expected
to see it when they were on earth ; as for myself.

226 J.ETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

I saw only the Light, and afterwards the figure
of the Christ."

"I have often wished to see Christ," said my
companion in an awe-struck voice. ''Do you think
that I can really see Him?"

"I think so, if you believe strongly that you
wiU."

"And what were they doing in heaven when
you were there ?" she asked.

"They were worshipping God, and they were
happy."

"I want to be happy," she said; "I have never
been very happy."

"The great thing in heaven," I advised, "is
to love all the others. That is what makes them
happy. If they loved the face of God only, it
would not be quite heaven; for the joy of God
is the joy of union."

Thus, by subtle stages, I led her mind away
from astral boarding-houses to the ideas of the
orthodox spiritual world, which was probably the
only spiritual world which she could understand.

I spoke of the music — ^yes, church music, if you
like to call it that. I created in her wandering
and chaotic mind a fixed desire for sabbath joys
and sabbath peace, and the communion of friends
In heaven. But for this gradual preparation she

A VICTIM OF THE NON-EXISTENT 22^

could not have adjusted herself to the conditions
of that world.

When we stood in the presence of those who
worship God with song and praise, she seemed
caught up on a wave of enthusiasm, to feel that
at last she had come home.

I wanted to take leave of her in such a way
that she would not come out again to look for me ;
so I held out my hand in the old way and said
good-bye, promising to come again and visit her
there, and advising her to stay where she was.
I think she will. Heaven has a strong hold on
those who yield themselves to its beauty.

LETTER XUn

A CLOUD OF WITNESSES

ARE you surprised to learn that there is even
a greater difference between the beings in
this world than between the people of earth?
Tliat is inevitable, for this is a freer world than
yours.

I should fail in my duty if I did not tell you
something of the evil beings out here; perhaps
no one else will ever tell you, and the knowledge
is necessary to self-protection.

First I want to say that there is a strong sjrm-
pathy between the spirits in this world and the
spirits in your world. Yes, they are both spirits,
the difference being mainly a difference in gar-
ments, one wearing flesh and the other wearing
a subtler but none the less real body.

Now the good spirits, which may be "the spirits
of just men made perfect," or those who merely
aspire to perfection, are powerfully drawn to.
those fellow-spirits on earth whose ideals are in

228

A CLOUD OF WITNESSES 229

harmony with their own. The magnetic attrac-
tion which exists between human beings is weak
compared with that which is possible between
beings embodied and beings disembodied. As op-
posites attract, the very difference in matter is a
drawing force. The female is not more attrac-
tive to the male than the being of flesh is attrac-
tive to the being in the astral. The two do not
usually understand each other, neither do man
and woman. But the influence is felt, and beings
out here understand its source better than you
do, because they generally carry with them the
memory of your world, while you have lost the
memory of theirs.

At no time is the sympathetic power between
men and spirits so strong as when men are la-
bouring under some intense emotion, be it love or
hate, or anger, or any other excitement. For
then the fiery element in man is most active, and
spirits are attracted by fire.

{Here the writing suddenly stopped, the infiu*
ence passed, to return after a few minutes.)

You wonder why I went away? It was in or-
der to draw a wide protective circle around us
both, for what I have to say to you is something

230 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

which certain spirits would wish me to leave un-
said.

To continue. When man is excited, exalted,
or in any way intensified in his emotional life,
the spirits draw near to him. That is how con-
ception is possible; that is the secret of inspira-
tion ; that is why anger grows with what it feeds
upon.

And this last is the point which I want to drive
home to your consciousness. When you lose
your temper you lose a great deal, among other
things the control of yourself, and it is barely
possible that another entity may momentarily as-
sume control of you.

This subjective world, as I have called it, is
full of hateful spirits. They love to stir up strife,
both here and on earth. They enjoy the excite-
ment of anger in others, they are thrilled by the
poison of hatred; as certain men revel in mor-
phine, so they revel in all inharmonious passion.

Do you see the point and the danger? A small
seed of anger in your heart they feed and in-
flame by the hatred in their own. It is not neces-
sarily hatred of you as an individual, often they
have no personal interest in you ; but for the pur-
pose of gratifying their evil passion they will at-

A CLOUD OF WITNESSES 23 1

tach themselves to you temporarily. Other illus-
trations are not far to seek.

A man who has the habit of anger, even of
fault-finding, is certain to be surrounded by evil
spirits. I have seen a score of them around a
man, thrilling him with their own malignant mag-
netism, stirring him up again when by reaction
he would have cooled down.

Sometimes the impersonal interest in mere
strife becomes personal ; an angry spirit here may
find that by attaching himself to a certain man
he is sure to get every day a thrill or thrills of
angry excitement, as his victim continually loses
his temper and storms and rages. This is one
of the most terrible misfortunes which can hap-
pen to anybody. Carried to its ultimate, it may
become obsession, and end in insanity.

The same law applies to other unlovely pas-
sions, those of lust and avarice. Beware of lust,
beware of all sex attraction into which no spiritual
or heart element enters. I have seen things that
I would not wish to record, either through your
hand or any other.

Let us take instead a case of avarice. I have
seen a miser counting over his gold, have seen
the terrible eyes of the spirits which enjoyed the
gold through him. For gold has a peculiar in-

232 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

flucnce as a metal, apart from its purchasing
power or the associations attached to it. Certain
spirits love gold, even as the miser loves it, and
with the same acquisitive, astringent passion.
As it is one of the heaviest of metals, so its power
is a condensed and condensing power.

I do not mean by this that you should beware
of gold. Get all you can use, for it is useful;
but do not gloat over it. One does not attract
the avaricious spirits merely by owning the sym-
bols of wealth — chouses and lands and stocks and
bonds, or even a moderate amount of coin; but
I advise you not to hoard coins to gloat over.

There are certain jewels, however, whose pos-
session will aid you, for they attract the spirits
of power. But you will probably choose your
jewels by reason of your affinity with them, and
may choose wisely.

Now that I have done my duty by warning you
against the passions and the passionate spirits of
which you should beware, I can go on to speak
of other feelings and of other spiritual associates
of man.

You have met persons who seemed to radiate
sunshine, whose very presence in a room made
you happier. Have you asked yourself why? The
true answer would be that by their lovely dispo*

A CLOUD OF WITNESSES I33

8ition they attracted round them a ''cloud of wit-
nesses" as to the joy and the beauty of life.

I have myself often basked in the warm rays
of a certain loving heart I know upon the earth.
I have heard spirits say to one another as they
crowded round that person, "It is good to be
here." Do you think that any evil thing could
happen to him? A score of loving and sympa-
thetic spirits would strive to give him warning
should any evil threaten.

Then, too, a joyous heart attracts joyous
events.

Simplicity, also, and sweet humility, are very
attractive to gentle disembodied souls. "Except
ye be as little children, ye cannot enter in.'*

Have you not often seen a child enjoying him-
self with unseen playfellows? You would call
them imaginary playfellows. Perhaps they were,
perhaps they were not imaginary. To imagine
may be to create, or it may be to attract things
already created.

I have seen the Beautiful Being itself, more
than once, hovering in ecstasy above an earthly
creature who was happy.

A song of joy, when it comes from a thrilling
heart, may attract a host of invisible beings who

234 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

enjoy it mth the singer; for, as I have told you,
sound carries from one world to another.

Never weep — ^unless you must, to restore lost
equilibrium. The weeping spirits, however, are
rather harmless because they are weak. Some-
times a storm of tears, when it is past, clears the
souFs atmosphere; but while'^the weeping is in
progress, the atmosphere is thick with weeping
spirits. One could almost hear the drip of their
tears through the veil of ether — if the sobbing
earthly one did not make so much noise with his
grief.

^'Laugh and the world laughs with you," may
be true enough; but when you weep, you do not
weep alone.

LETTER XLIVi

THE BSNGDOM WITHIN

THERE is one obscure point which I want
to make clear, even though I may be ac-
cused of "mysticism" by those to whom mysti-
cism means only obscurity.

I have said that the life of man is both sub-
jective and objective, but principally objective;
and that the life of "spirits" dwelling in subtle
matter is both subjective and objective, but prin-
cipally subjective.

Yet I have spoken of going alone or with others
to heaven, as a place. I want to explain this.
You remember the saying, "The kingdom of
heaven is within you," that is, subjective. Also,
"Where two or three are gathered together in
My name, there will I be in the midst of them."

Now, those places in this subtle realm which I
have called the Christian heavens are places
where two or three, or two or three thousand,
as the case may be, are gathered together in His

23S

236 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

name, to enjoy the kingdom of heaven within
them.

The aggregation of souls is objective — that is,
the souls exist in time and space ; the heaven which
they enjoy is subjective, though they may all see
the same thing at the same time, as, for instance,
the vision of Him whom they adore as Redeemer.

That is as dear as I can make it.

LETTER XLV

THE GAME OF MAKE-BELIEVE

ONE day I met a man in doublet and hose,
who announced to me that he was Shake-
speare. Now I have become accustomed to such
announcements, and they do not surprise me as
they did six or eight months ago. (Yes, I still
keep account of your months, for a purpose of
my own.)

I asked this man what proof he could adduce
of his extraordinary claim, and he answered that
it needed no proof.

"That will not go down with me," I said, "for
I am an old lawyer."

Thereupon he laughed, and asked:
"Why did you not join in the game?"
I am telling you this rather senseless story, be-
cause it illustrates an interesting point in regard
to our life here.

In a former letter I wrote about my meeting
with a newly arrived lady, who, finding me

237

238 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

dressed in a Roman toga, thought that I might
be Cassar; and that I told her we were all actors
here. I meant that, like children, we "dress up"
when we want to impress our own imagination, or
to relive some scene in the past.

This playing of a part is usually quite innocent,
though sometimes the very ease with which it is
done brings with it the temptation to deception,
especially in dealings with the earth people.

You see the point I wish to make. The "lying
spirits," of which the frequenters of seance rooms
so often make complaint, are these astral actors,
who may even come to take a .certain pride in
the cleverness of their art.

Be not too sure that the spirit who claims to
be your deceased grandfather is that estimable
old man himself. He may be merely an actor
playing a part, for his own entertainment and
yours.

How is one to tell, you ask? One cannot al-
ways tell. I should say, however, that the surest
test of all would be the deep and unemotional
conviction that the veritable entity was in one's
presence. There is an instinct in the human
heart which will never deceive us, if we without
fear or bias will yield ourselves to its decision.
How often in worldly matters have we all acted

THE GAME OF MAKE-BELIEVE 239

against this inner monitor, and been deceived and
led astray I

If you have an instinctive feeling that a cer-
tain invisible — or even visible — entity is not what
it claims to be, it is better to discontinue the con-
ference. If it is the real person, and if he has
anything vital to say, he will come again and
again; for the so-called dead are often very de-
sirous to communicate with the living.

As a rule, though, the play-acting over here
is innocent of intent to deceive. Most men desire
occasionally to be something which they are not.
The poor man, who, for one evening, dresses
himself in his best clothes and squanders a week's
salary in playing the millionaire is moved by the
same impulse which inspired the man in my story
to assert that he was Shakespeare. The woman
who always dresses beyond her means is playing
the same little game with herself and with the
world.

All children know the game. They will tell
you in a convinced tone that they are Napoleon
Bonaparte, or George Washington, and they feel
hurt if you scoflF.

Perhaps my friend with the Shakespearean as-
piration was an amateur dramatist when he was
pn earth. Had he been a professional dramatist.

240 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

he would probably have stated his real name,
more or less unknown, and followed it by the
declaration that he was the well-known So*and-so.

There is much pride out here in the accom-
plishments of the earth-life, especially among
those who have recently come out. This lessens
with time, and after one has been long here one's
interests are likely to be more general.

Men and women do not cease to be human
merely by crossing the frontier of what you call
the invisible world. In fact, the human charac-
teristics are often exaggerated, because the re-
straints are fewer. There are no penalties in-
flicted by the community for the personating of
one man by another. It is not taken seriously, for
to the clearer sight of this world the disguise is
too transparent.

LETTER XLVI

H£IRS OF HERMES

THERE is much sound sense and not a little
nonsense talked about Adepts and Mas-
ters, who live and work on the astral plane. Now
I am myself living, and sometimes working, on
the so-called astral plane, and what I say about
the plane is the result of experience and not of
theory.

I have met Adepts — yes. Masters here. One
of them especially has taught me much, and has
guided my footsteps from the first.

Do not fear to believe in Masters. Masters
are men raised to the highest power; and whether
they are embodied or disembodied, they work on
this plane of life. A Master can go in and out
at will.

No, I am not going to tell the world how they
do it. Some who are not Masters might try the
experiment, and not be able to go back again.
Knowledge is power ; but there are certain powers

241

242 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

which may be dangerous if put in practice with-
out a corresponding degree of wisdom.

All human beings have in them the potentiality
of mastership. That ought to be an encourage-
ment to men and women who aspire to an inten-
sity of life beyond that of the ordinary. But
the attainment of mastership is a steady and gen-
erally a slow growth.

My Teachier here is a Master.

There are teachers here who are not Masters,
as there are teachers on earth who have not the
rank of professor; but he who is willing to tieach
what he knows is on the right road.

I do not mind saying that my Teacher ap-
proves of my trying to tell the world something
about the life which follows the change that is
called death. If he disapproved, I should bow
to his superior wisdom.

No, it does not matter what his name is. I
have referred to him simply as my Teacher, and
have told you many things which he has said and
done. Many other things I have not told you,
for I can only come occasionally now. After a
time I shall probably cease to come altogether.
Not that I shall have lost interest in you ; but
it seems to be the plan that I shall get farther
away from the world, to learn things which neces-

HEIRS OF HERMES 243

sitate for their comprehension a certain loosening
of the earthly tie. Later I may return again,
for the second time; but I make no promises. I
will come if I can, and if it seems wise to come,
and if you are in a mood to let me.

I do not believe that I shall come through any-
body else — at least, not to write letters like this.
I should probably have to put such another person
through the same training process that I put you
through, and few — even of those who were my
friends and associates — ^would trust me to that
extent. So, even after I am gone, do not shut the
door too tight, in case I should want to come
again, for I might have something immensely im-
portant to say. But on the other hand, please
refrain from calling me; because if you should
call me you might draw me away from important
work or study somewhere else. I do not say for
certain that you could, but it is possible ; and when
I leave the neighbourhood of the earth of my
own accord, I do not wish to be drawn back until
I am ready to return.

A person still upon the earth may call so in-
tensely to a friend who has passed far away from
the earth's atmosphere, that that soul will come
back too soon in response to the eager cry.

Do not forget the dead, unless they are strong

244 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

enough to be happy without your remembrance;
but do not lean too heavily upon them.

The Masters, of whom I spoke a little while
ago, can remain near or far away, as they will;
they can respond or not respond : but the ordinary
soul is very sensitive to the call of those it loved
on earth.

I have seen a mother respond eagerly to the
tearful prayer of a child, and yet unable to make
the lonely one realise her presence. Sometimes
the mothers are very sad because they cannot
make their presence felt.

One time I saw my Teacher by his power help
a mother to make herself seen and heard by a
daughter who was in great trouble. The heart
of my Teacher is very soft to the sufferings of
the world; and though he says that he is not one
of the Christs, yet he often seems to work as
Christ works. At other times he is all mind. He
illustrates the saying about the thrice-greatest
Hermes Trismegistus — great in body, great in
mind, great in heart.

I wish I could tell you more about my
Teacher, but he does not wish to be too well
known on earth. He works for the work's sake,
and not for reward or praise.

He is very fond of children, and one day when

HEIRS OF HERMES 245

I was sitting unseen in the house of a friend of
mine on earth, and the little son of the house fell
down and hurt himself and wept bitterly, my great
Teacher, whom I have seen command literally
"legions of angels," bent down in his tenuous
form, which he was then wearing, and soothed
and comforted the child.

When I asked him about it afterwards, he said
that he remembered many childhoods of his own,
in other lands, and that he could still feel in mem-
ory the sting of physical pain and the shock of a
physical fall.

He told me that children suffer more than their
elders realise, that the bewilderment felt in grad-
ually adjusting to a new and frail and growing
body is often the cause of intense suffering.

He said that the constant crying of some small
babies is caused by their half-discouragement at
the herculean task before them — the task of
moulding a body through which their spirit can
work.

He told me a story of one of his former in-
carnations, before he became a Master, and what
a hard struggle he had to build a body. He could
remember even the smallest details of that far-
away life. One day his mother punished him for
something which he had not really done, and when

246 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

he denied the supposed wrongful act, she chided
him for untruthfuhiess, not realising — good
woman though she was — ^the essential truth of
the soul to whom she had given form. He told
me that from that childish impression, centuries
ago, he could date his real battle against injus-
tice, which had helped to develop him as a friend
and teacher of mankind.

Then he went on to speak of the importance
of our recovering the memory of other lives, in
order that we may see the roads by which our
souls have come.

As a rule, the great teachers are reticent about
their own past, and they only refer to it when
some point in their experience can be used to il-
lustrate a principle, and thus help another to grasp
the principle. It encourages a groping soul to
know that one who has attained a great height
has been through the same trials that now perplex
him.

LETTER XLVII

ONLY A SONG

WILL you listen to another song, or chant,
or whatever you choose to call it, of that
amazing angel whom we know as the Beautiful
Being?

Why do you fear to question me? I am the great an-
swerer of questions;

Thouflh my answers are often symbols^ yet words tiiem-
Itelves are only symbols.

P^'have not visited you for a season^ for when I am
f around^ you can think of nothing else^ and it is well
/ that you should think of those who have trodden

the path you are treading.

You can pattern your ways on those of others^ you can
hardly pattern your ways on mine.

^ am a light in the darkness — ^my name you do not need
to know;

^ 247

248 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN
A name is a limitation^ and I refuse to be limited.

In the ancient days of the angels^ I refused to enter the
forms of my own creation^ except to play with
them.

There is a hint for you^ if yon like hints.

He who is held by his own creation^^becomes a slave.
That is one of the differences betw^fu me and men.

What earthly father can escape his chilbren.^ What
earthly mother wishes to? w

But I ! I can make a rose to bloom — ^then lellB it tot-
another to enjoy.

My joy was in the making. It would be dull for f.^
stay with a rose until its petals fell.

The artist who can forget his past creations may creat*
greater and greater things.

The joy is in the doings not in the holding fast to that
which is done.

Oh^ the magic of letting go ! It is the magic of the gods.

There are races of men to whom I have revealed my-
self. They worship me.

ONLY A SONG 249

You need not worship me^ for I do not require worship.

That would be to limit myself to my own creations^ if I
needed anything from the souls I have touched with
my beauty.

Oh, the magic of letting go!

The magic of holding on ?

Yes, there is a magic in holding on to a thing until it
is finished and perfect;

But when a thing is finished, whether it be a poem, a
love, or a child, let it go.

In that way you are free again and may begin another.
It is the secret of eternal youth.

Never look back with regret; look back only to learn
what is behind you.

forward always; it is only when a man ceases to
look forward to things that he begins to grow old.
He settles down.

ave said to live in the moment; that is the same thing
f seen from another side.

e present and the future are playfellows; we do not
play when we study the past.

am the great playfellow of men.

LETTER XLVIII

INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE

IT is not yet too late to ^sh you a merry Christ-
mas.

How do I know that it is Christmas Day?
Because I have been looking in at houses which
I used to frequent, and have seen trees laden with
tinsel and gifts. Do you wonder that I could see
them? If so, you forget that we light our own
place. When we know how to look, we can see
behind the veil.

This is my first Christmas Day on this side.
I cannot send you a material gift which you could
wear or hang up in your room; but I can send
you the good wishes of the season.

The mothers who have left young children be-
hind them in the world know well when Christ-
mas is approaching. Sometimes they bring in-
visible gifts, which they have fashioned by their
power of imagination and love out of the tenuous
matter of this world. A certain grandmother all

250

INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 25 1

last evening, Christnias Eve, was scattering flow-
ers around her dear ones. Their fragrance must
have penetrated the atmosphere of the earth.

Did you ever smell suddenly a sweet perfume
which you could not account for? If so, per-
haps some one who loved you was scattering in-
visible flowers. Love is stronger than death.

Another whom you know will go out before
long. Strengthen her with your faith.

The practice of keeping Christmas is a good
one, if you do not forget the real meaning of the
day. To some it means the birth into the world
of the spirit of humility and love ; but while love
and humility had visited the world before the ap-
pearance of Jesus of Nazareth, yet never before
nor since have they come with greater power than
they came to Judaea. Whether the stable in Beth-
lehem was a physical reality or a symbol, makes
no difference.

I have been to the heavens of Christ, and know
their beauty. "In My Father's house are many
mansions."

A traveller like me who wishes to go to some
particular heaven must first feel in himself what
those souls feel who enjoy that heaven; then he
can enter and commune with them. He could
never go as a mere sight-seer. That is why, as

1$1 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

a rule, I have avoided the hells ; but die heavens
I often visit.

And I have been in purgatory, the purgatory
of the Roman Catholics. Do not scoff at those
who have masses said for the repose of the souls
of the departed. The souls are often consdous
of such thoughtfulness. They hear the music,
and they may smell the incense ; most of all, they
feel the power of the thought directed to them.
Purgatory is real, in the sense of being a real
experience. If you want to call it a dream, you
may; but dreams are sometimies terribly real.

Even those who do not believe in purgatory
sometimes wander awhile in sadness, until they
have adjusted themselves to the new conditions
under which they live. Should one tell them that
they were in purgatory, they might deny the ex-
istence of such a state; but they would readily
admit their discomfort.

The surest way to escape that painful period
of transition is to go into the hereafter with a full
faith in immortality, a full faith in the power of
the soul to create its own conditions.

Last night, after visiting various places upon
the earth, I went to one of the highest Christian
heavens. Perhaps I could not have gone so easily
at any other time ; for my heart was full of love

INVISIBLE GirrS AT YULETIDB ftj}

for all men and my mind was full of the Christ
idea.

Often have I seen Him who is called thie Sa-
viour of men, and last night I saw Him in all His
beautjr. He, too, came down to the world for a
time.

I wonder if I can make you understand? The
love of Christ is always present in the world, be-
cause there are always hearts that keep it alight*
If the idea of Christ as a redeemer should ever
grow faint in the world, He would probably go
back there and relight the flame in human hearts;
but whatever the writers of statistics may say, that
idea was never more real than at present. It
may have been more talked about.

The world is not in so bad a way as $ome
people think. Be not surprised if there should
be a strong renaissance of the spiritual idea* All
things have their rhythms. '

Last night I stood in a great church where
hundreds of Christians knelt in adoration of Je-
sus. I have stood in churches on Christmas Eve
when on earth as a man among men; but I saw
things last night which I had never seen before.
Surely where two or three are gathered together
10 the name of any prophet, there he is in the

254 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

midst of diem, if not always In his spiritual body,
at least in the fragrance of his sympathy.

The angels in the Christian heavens know when
Christmas is being celebrated on earth.

Jesus of Nazareth is a reality. As a spiritual
body, as Jesus who dwelt in Galilee, He exists in
space and time; as the Christ, the paradigm of
the spiritual man, He exists in the hearts of all
men and women who awaken that idea in them-
selves. He is a light which is reflected in many
pools.

I wrote the other day about Adepts and Mas-
ters. Jesus is a type of the greatest Master. He
is revered in all the heavens. He grasped the
Law and dared to live it, to exemplify it. And
when He said, "The Father and I are one," He
pointed the way by which other men may realise
mastership In themselves.

Humanity on Its long road has evolved many
Masters. Who then shall dare to question that
humanity has justified Itself? If one demands to
know what purpose there Is In life, tell him that
it is this very evolution of the Master out of the
man. Eternity is long. The goal Is ahead for
each unit of sufficient strength, and those who
cannot lead can serve.

This thought came home to me with special

INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 255

force last night. I am not so bold as to say that
every unit in the great mass is strong enough, has
energy enough, to evolve individual mastership;
but there is no unit so weak that it may not have
some part, however small, in the great work of
evolving Masters out of men. It is sweet to
serve. They too have their reward.

The great mistake made by most minds in wres-
tling with the problem of evolution is in not grasp-
ing the fact that eternity is eternity, that to be
immortal is to have no beginning or end. There
is time enough in which to develop, if not in this
life cycle, then in another which will follow; for
rhythm is sure.

If I could only make you grasp the idea of
immortality as I see itl I did not fully under-
stand it until I came out here and began to pick
up the threads of my own past. My reason told
me that I was immortal, but I did not know what
inmiortality meant. I wonder if you do?

I know an angel who has done more, perhaps,
than many prophets have done to keep that idea
alight in the world. Until I met the one whom
we know as the Beautiful Being I had not revelled
in the triumph of immortality. There is one who
plays with immortality as a child plays with mar-
bles.

256 LETTERS FROM A LIVING D£AI> MAN

When the Beautiful Bdng says, ^*I am,** you
know diat you are, too. When die Beaotifid
Being says, "I plu<^ the centuries as a diild puUs
the petals of a daisy, and I throw away the seed-
bearing heart to grow more century-bearing dai-
sies/* you feel — but words are weak to expttn
what the Beautiful Beii^'s joy in endless Ufe can
make one feel.

You forget the thing of flesh and bones wfakh
you used to call yourself when diis sliver of om-
scious immortality exults in its own existence.

When the Beautiful Being takes you for a walk
in what it calls the ^'clover meadows of the sky,*'
you are quite sure that you are one of the co-
heirs of the whole eternal estate.

The Beautiful Being knows well the Christ of
the Christians. I think the Beautiful Being knows
all the great Masters, embodied or disembodied.
They all taught immortality in some form or
other, if only in essence.

The Beautiful Being went with me last night
to the highest heaven of the Christians. Should
I tell you all that I saw, you might be in too great
a hurry to go out there and view it for yourself,
and you must not leave the earth for a long time
yet. You must realise immortality while still io
the flesh, and make others realise it.

INVISIBLE GIFTS AT YULETIDE 257

I have told you about the minor heavens, where
merely good people go; but the passionately de-
vout lovers of God reach heights of contempla-
tion and ecstasy wtuch the words of the world's
languages were not designed to describe. With
the Beautiful Being at my side I felt those ec-
stasies last night, while you were locked in sleep.

Where shall I be next Christmas Eve ? I shall
be somewhere in the universe; for we could not
get out of the universe if we should try. The
universe could not get on without us ; it would be
incomplete. Take that thought with you into
the happy New Year.

LETTER XLIX

THE GREATER DREAMLAND

I HAVE not been to see you for some time,
for I have been trying an experiment.

Since coming to this country I have so often
seen men and women Ijdng in a state of subjective
enjoyment, of dream, if I may use the word, that
I have long wanted to spend a few days alone ifndi
my interior self, in that same state. My reason
for hesitating was that I feared to dream too
long, and thus to lose valuable time — both yours
and mine.

But when I expressed to the Teacher one day
my desire to visit the greater dreamland lying
within my own brain, also my fear that I might
be slow in waking, he promised that he would
come and wake me in exactly seven days of earthly
time if I had not already aroused myself.

"For," he said, "you can set an alarm-clock
in your own brain, which can always be relied
upon."

258

THE GREATER DREAMLAND 259

This I knew from old experience; but I had
feared that the psychic sleep might be deeper
than the ordinary earthly skep, and that the
alarm-clock might not go off at the appointed
time.

I have heard much comment, so doubtless have
you, on the fact that spirits, when they return
to conununicate with their friends, say, as a rule,
so little about their celestial life. The reason is,
I fancy, that they despair of making themselves
understood should they attempt to describe their
existence, which is so different from that of earth.

Now, most souls, when they have been out
some time, fall into that state of reverie, or
dream, which I had so long desired to experience
for myself. Some souls awake at intervals, and
show an occasional interest in the things and peo-
ple of the earth; but if the sleep is deep, and if
the soul is willing or desirous to leave the things
of the earth behind, the subconscious state may
last uninterruptedly for years, or even centuries.
But a soul that could stay asleep for centuries
would probably be one that was living according
to long rhythm, the normal rhythm of humanity.

So, when I went into the deep sleep, I went
into it mth a spell upon myself not to remain too
long.

260 LETTEM FROM A IITING DEAD MAN

Oh| it was wonderful, that dreanMoiuitrf in
my own self 1 The Theotophitts would perfaapt
say that I had taken a rest in the blias of dera*
dian. No matter what one calls it. It was an
experience worth remembering.

I closed my eyes and went inf-4i>~deeper dun
thought, where the restless waves of life arc still,
and the soul is face to face with itself and with
all the wonders of its own past There ia noth*
ing but loveliness in that sleep* If one can bring
back the dreams, as I did, the sojourn there ia an
adventure beyond comparison.

I went In to enjoy, and I enjoyed I fotmd
there the simulacrum of everyone whom I had
ever loved They smiled at me, and I understood
the mystery of them, and why we had been drawn
together.

I ref ound, too, my old dreams of ambition, and
enjoyed the fruit of all my labour on earth. It
is a rosy world, that inner world of the soul, and
the heart's desire is always found there. No
wonder that the strenuous life of earth is oftener
than not a pain and a travail, for the dream^^Ufe
which follows is so beautiful that the balance most
be preserved

Restl On earth you know not the meaning of
the word. I rested only seven days ; but so re»

THB CRBATll DREAMLAND 26%

flashed was I that, had I not other worlds to
conquer, I should almost have had the courage
to return to earth.

Do not neglect rest — ^jrou who still live the toil-
some life in the sunshine. For every added hour
of true rest your working capacity is increased
Have no fear. You are not wasting time when
you lie down and dream. As I have said before,
eternity is long. There is room for rest in the
wayside irnis which dot the path which the cycles
tread.

If you want to take a long and devachanic rest
-—-why, take it. Take it even on earth, if it seems
desirable. Do not be always grubbing, even at
literature. Go out and play with the squirrels,
or lie by the fire and dream with die household
cat. The cat that enjoys the drowsy fireside also
enjoys catching mice when the mood is on her.
She cannot be always hunting, neither can you.

Just take a dip in devachan some day, and see
how refreshed you will be when you come out.
Perhaps I am misusing that word ''devachan,"
for I was never very deeply learned in the lore
of Theosophy.

I have even heard nirvana described as a state
of intense motion, so rapid that it seems motion-*
less, like a spinning-top, or the wing of a hum-

262 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAM

ming-bird But nirvana is not for all men — not
yet.

I have hinted at the wonders of my seven days
of blissful resty but I have not described them.
How can I? A great poet once declared that
there was no thou^t or feeling which could not
be expressed in words. Perhaps he his changed
his mind by this time, after being out here some
sixty years.

As I went to rest, I commanded my soul to
bring back every dream. Of course I cannot say
whether some may not have escaped, any more
than you can say on waking that you have or
have not forgotten the deeper experiences of the
night. But when I came back into the normal
life of this plane that is called astral, I felt like
an explorer who returns from a strange journey
with wonder-tales to tell. Only I did not tell
them. To whom should I relate those dreams
and visions? I would not be a bore, even to ''dis-
embodied" associates. Had Lionel been here, I
might have entertained him many an hour with
my stories ; but he is lost to me for the present.

And, by the way, he seems to have taken little
or no devachanic rest. Is that because he was so
young on coming out that he had not exhausted
the normal rhythm ? Probably. Had he remained

THE GREATER DREAMLAND 263

out here and grown up, perhaps he also would
have sought the deeper interior world. But I
will not speculate, for this is a record of experi-
ences, not of speculations. You can speculate as
well as I, if you think it worth while.

I found in my own dreamland a fair, fair face.
No, I am not going to tell you about that; it is
my little secret. Of course I found many faces,
but one was lovelier than all the others, and it
was not the face of the Beautiful Being, either.
The Beautiful Being I meet when I am wide
awake. I did not encounter her as an actual pres-
ence in sleep, only the simulacrum of her. In
the deeper dreamland we see only what is in our
brains. Things do not exist there, only the mem-
ories of things and the imagination of them.

Imagination creates in this world, as in yours :
it actually moulds the tenuous substance; but in
the greater dreamland I do not think that we
mould in substance. It is a world of light and
shadow pictures, too subtle to be described.

Even before this experience I had gone into
the memories of my own past ; but I had not rev-
elled in them, had not indulged myself to the ex-
tent of conjuring with light and shade. But, oh I
what's the use? There are no words to describe
it. Can you describe the perfiune of a rose, as

a64 LETTBK8 FftQM A UVINO DEAD MAN

yoQ once said yourself? Can yoa tell how a kiss
feek? Could you even deacribe the emotion of
fear so that one who had not felt iti by former
eiqperience in this life or some other, would know
what you meant? No more can I describe the
process of spiritual dreaming.

Rerel to your heart's content in fancy, in mem-
ory, while you are still in the body, and yet I
think that you will have only the shadow of a
shadow of what I es^erienced in tiiose seven days,
the reflection of a reflection of the real dream.
The reflection of a reflection I I like that phrase.
It suggests a dear picture, though not a direct
impression. Try dreaming, then, even on earth,
and maybe you will get a reflection of a reflection
of the pictured joys of the spiritual dreamland.

LETTER E

A SERMON AND A FKOKISB:

AS I have been coming to you every few days
for several months, and have told stories
for your amusement, may I come now and preach
a sermon ? I promise it shall not be long.

You live in a land where dburch spires pierce
the blue of heaven, looking from the viewpoint
of the clouds like the uplifted spears of an invad-
ing army — ^which in intent they are ; so surely you
have the habit of listening to sermons. The aver-
age sermon is made up mosdy of advice, and mine
will not differ from others in that particular. I
wish to advise you, and as many other persons
as you can make listen to my advice.

You will grant that, for one who offers counsel,
I have had unusual opportunities for fitting myself
to give it. In order to help you to live* I would
show you the point of view of a serious and
thoughtful — ^however imperfect— observer of the

26s

266 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

after effects of causes set in motion by dwellers
upon the earth. It has been said that cause and
effect are opposite and equal. Very good. Now
I want to draw your attention to certain illus-
trations of that axiom which have come to my
mind during the last few months. If I repeat
one or two things which I have already said, that
is no serious matter. You may have forgotten
them, or missed their application to the business
of preparing for the future life on this side of
the gulf of death. That is a moss-grown figure
of speech, ^'the gulf of death" ; but I am writing
a sermon, not a poem, and well-worn tropes are
expected from the pulpit.

The preachers remind you every few Sundays
that you have got to die some day. Do you re-
alise it? Does your consciousness take in the fact
that at any moment — to-morrow or fifty years
hence — ^you may suddenly find yourself outside
that body whose cohesive force you have become
accustomed to ; that you may find yourself, either
alone or accompanied, in a very tenuous and light
and at first not easily manageable body, with no
certain power of communicating with those
friends and relations whom you may see in the
very room with you?

You have not realised it? Then get it through

A SERMON AND A PROMISE 267

your consciousness. Grasp it with both hemi-
spheres of your brain. Clutch it mth the talons
of your mind. You are going to die.

Oh, do not be alarmed I I do not mean you
personally, nor that you, or any particular per-
son, will die to-morrow, or next year ; but die you
must some day; and if you remind yourself of
it occasionally, it will lessen the shock of the ac-
tual happening when it comes.

Do not brood over the thought of death. God
forbid that you should read such a morbid mean-
ing into my blunt words I Biiit be prepared. You
insure your life for so much money that your
family may be provided for; but you do nothing
to insure your own future peace of mind regarding
your own self.

Remember this always : however minute are the
instructions you leave for the management of your
affairs after death, should you be able to look
back to the earth you will find that someone has
mismanaged them. So expect just that, take it
as a matter of course, and learn to say, ^^What
difference does it make?" Learn to feel that
the past is past, that the future alone has possi-
bilities for you, and that the sooner you leave
other persons to manage your discarded earthly
affairs the better it will be for your own tranquil-

268 LETTE18 FROM A LIVING HEAD MAN

lity. Be prepared to lei go. That is the firtf
point I wish to makie.

Do not go out into ihe new fife widi only one
eye open to die celestial planes, and die other in-
verted towards the images of eardi. Yon will
not get far if you do. Let go. Get away from
the world just as soon as you can.

This may sound to some people like heardess
advice, for there is no doubt that a wise spirit,
looking down from the higher sphere, can, by his
subtly instilled telepathic suggestions, influence for
good the men and women of the earth. But there
are always thousands of those who are eager to
do that. The heavens above your head now ztt
literally swarming with souls who long to take
a hand in the business of earth, souls who cannot
let go, who find the habit of mana^ng other peo-
ple's affairs a fascinating habit, as enthralling as
that of tobacco, or opium. Again, do not call me
heartless, I am blunt of speech, but I love you,
men of earth. If I hurt you, it is for your good.

Now comes another and a most interesting
point. Forget, if you can, the sins you have conn
mitted in the flesh. You cannot escape the effects
of those causes ; but you can avoid strengthemng
the tie with sin, you can avoid going back to earth

A 8£RMON AND A PROMISE 269

self-hypnotised witK the idea that you are a sin-
ner.

Do not brood over sin. It is true that you
can exhaust the impulse to sin by dwelling on it
until your soul is disgusted; but that is a slow
and an unpleasant process. The short-cut of for*
getfulne^s is better.

Now I want to express an idea very difficult
to express, for the reason that it will be quite
new to most of you. It is this: The power of
the creative imagination is stronger in men wear*
ing their earthly bodies than it is in men (spirits)
who have laid off their bodies. Not that most
persons know how to use that power : they do not ;
the point I wish to make is that they can use it. A
solid body is a resistive base, a powerful lever,
from which the will can project those things con-
jured by the imagination. That is, I believe, the
real reason why Masters retain their physical
bodies. The trained mind, robed in the tenuous
matter of our world, is stronger than the un-
trained mind robed in dense matter; but the Mas^
ters still robed in flesh can command a legion of
angels.^

*He has said that they build freely in that worjd through
the creative imagination; but we must remember how tenuous
and eofiUy bandied iii the mutter which they ufle.»-S9t

270 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

This is by way of preface to the assertion that
as you on earth picture your future life to be, so
it will be, limited always by the power with which
you back your will, and by the possibility of sub-
tle matter to take the mould you give it, and that
possibility is almost unlimited.

Will to progress after death, and you will
progress; will to learn, and you will learn; will
to return to the earth after a time to take up a
special work, and you will return and take up
that work.

Karma is an iron law, yes; but you are the crea-
tor of karma.

Above all things, do not expect — ^which Is to
demand — ^unconsciousness and annihilation. You
cannot annihilate the unit of force which you are,
but you can by self-suggestion put it to sleep for
ages. Go out of life with the determination to
retain consciousness, and you will retain it.

When the time comes for you to enter that
rest which a certain school of thought has called
devachan, you will enter it; but that time will
not be immediately after you go out.

On finally reaching that state you will, as a
matter of course, relive in dream your former
earthly life and assimilate its experiences ; but by
that time you will have got rid of the desire per-

A SERMON AND A PROMISE 27 1

sonally to take part, as a spirit, in the lives of
those you have left behind.

Do not, while still on earth, invoke the spirits
of the dead. They may be busy elsewhere, and
you may be strong enough to call them away
from their own business to attend to yours un-
wiUingly.

You who write for me, I want to thank you
for never calling me. You let me come always at
my own time, and let me say what I wish to say
without confusing my thought by either questions
or comments.

You of the earth who are still upon the earth
may find your departed friends when you come
out here, if they have not already put on another
body. Meantime, let them perform the work of
the state in which they are.

You who write for me will remember that the
first time I came you did not even know that I
had left the earth. I found you in a passive mood,
and wrote a message signed by a symbol whose
special meaning was unknown to you, but which
I knew would be immediately recognised by those
in whom you were likely to confide. That was
a most fortunate beginning, for it gave you con-
fidence in the genuineness of my communications.

But I said that I would write only a sermon to-

272 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

night, SO I will now pronounce the blessing and
depart. I shall return, however. This is not
'the last meeting of the season.

'Later.

One word more before I go to my other work.

If you had urgently called me during that week
which I spent in rest, you might have had the
power to cut short a most interesting and valuable
experience. So the final word, after the benedic-
tion of this sermon, is : Do not be too egotistically
insistent, even with the so-called dead.

If your need is great, the souls who love you
may feel it and come to you of their own accord.
This is often illustrated in the earth life, among
those whose psychic pores are open.

LETTER LI

THE APRIL OF THE WORLD

HAVING told you last week that you must
die, according to the jargon of the earth,
I now want to assure you that you can never really
die at all; that you are as immortal as the angels,
as immortal as God Himself.

No, that is not a contradiction.

I have spoken before of immortality: it was
always a favourite theme of mine; but since my
association with the Beautiful Being it has become
for me an exultant consciousness.

The Beautiful Being lives in eternity, as we
fancy that we live in time. Will you write down
here another of that angel's chants?

When you see me in the green trees and in the green
light under trees^ know that you are near to me:

When you hear my voice in the silence^ know that I
speak for you.

273

274 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

The immortal loves to speak to the immortal in the mor-
tal^ and there is joy in calling to the joy which
dozes in the heart of a soul of earth.

When joy is awake^ the soul is awake.

You look for God in the forms of men and women^ and
sometimes you find Him there;

But you look for me in your own soul; the deeper the
gaze^ the fairer the vision.

Yes^ 1 am in Nature^ and I am in you^ when you look for
me there;

For Nature is dual^ and the half you carry within you.

All things are one and dual — even I^ and that is why
you may find me.

Oh^ the charm of being free^ to wander at will round
the earth and heaven^ and through the souls of
men!

I am lighter than the thistle-down^ but more enduring
than the stars:

The permanent is impalpable^ and only the impalpable
endures.

THE APRIL OF THE WORLD 275

The road is not long which leads to the castle of dreams ;
the far-away is nearer than next-door^ but only the
dreamer finds it.

When labour is lights the pay is sure; when the days
are hard^ their reward is tardy.

Be glad^ and I will repay you.

I would write my name on the leaves of your hearty but
only the angels can read the writing.

Who bears my unknown name on the petals of his heart
is accepted among the angels for the flower he is;
his perfume reaches heaven.

There is pollen in the hearty child of eartfi^ and it fructi-
fies the flowers of faith;

There is faith in the soul^ child of time^ and it bears
the seeds of all things.

The seasons come and the seasons go^ but the spring-
time is eternal.

I can find that in you which was lost in the April of the
world.

LETTER LII

A HAPPY WIDOWER

I MET a charming woman the other nighti
quite different from anyone else I have met
heretofore. She was no less a woman because
she weighed perhaps a milligramme instead of one
hundred and thirty pounds.

I was passing along a quiet road, and saw her
standing by a fountain. Who had created the
fountain? I cannot say. There are sculptors in
this world who mould for the love of the work

more beautiful fountains than your sculptors
mould for money. The joy of the workman in
his work I Why, that is heaven, is it not?

I saw a beautiful woman standing by a foun-
tain; and as I love beauty, whether in fountains
or in women, I paused to regard both.

The lovelier of the two looked up and laughed.

"I was wishing for someone to talk to," she
said. "What a wonderful world this is !"

"I am glad you find it so," I answered. "I

276

A HAPPY WIDOWER 277

also do not agree with the old woman who de-
clared that heaven was a much overrated place/'

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked.

"No. Have we met before?"

"Wc have. And, of course, you could remem-
ber me, if you should try."

Then I recalled who she was. We had met
some years before on one of my journeys to New
York, and I had talked with her about the mys-
teries of life and death, of will and destiny.

"I have tested many of the things you told
me," she went on, "and I have found them true/'

"What things, for instance?"

"First and most important, that man may cre-
ate his own environment."

"You can easily demonstrate that here," I said.
"But how long have you been in this world?"

"Only a few months."

"And how did you come out?"

"I died of too much joy."

"That was a pleasant death and an unusual
one," I said, smiling. "How did it happen?"

"The doctor said that I died of heart-failure.
For years I had wanted a certain thing, and when
it came to me suddenly, the realisation was too
much for me."

"And then?"

278 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

"Why, I suddenly realised that I had let slip
the body through which I might have enjoyed this
thing I had attained/'

"And then?"

"I remembered that I was not my body, that
I was my consciousness; and as long as that was
intact, I was intact. So I went right on enjojring
the attainment."

"Without a regret?"

"Yes."

"You are indeed a philosopher," I said. "And
though I do not want to force your confidence,
yet I would be much interested to know your
story."

"It would seem absurd to some people," she
answered, "and even to me it seems strange some-
times. But I had always wanted money, a great
deal of money. One day a certain person died,
leaving me a fortune. It was that joy which was
too strong for me."

"And how do you enjoy the fortune here?"

"In several ways. My husband and I had
planned a beautiful house — ^if we should ever have
the money. We had planned to travel, too, and
to see the interesting places of the world. We
also had two or three friends who loved to cre-
ate beauty in the arts, and who were hampered

A HAPPY WIDOWER 279

in their work by lack of means. Now, my hus-
band, being my sole heir, came into the fortune
immediately I passed out. So I enjoy everything
with him and through him just the same as if I
were actually in the flesh."

"And he knows that you are present?"

"Yes. We had each promised not to desert
the other in life or death. I have kept my word,
and he knows that I have kept it."

"And where is he now?"

"Travelling."

"Alone?"

"Except for me."

"In what place is he?"

"In Egypt at this time."

I drew nearer.

"Can you show him to me?" I asked.

"Yes, I think so. Come along."

It is needless to say that I did not require a sec-
ond invitation.

We found the man — a handsome fellow about
thirty years of age — sitting alone in a luxurious
bedroom in Cairo. It seems to be my destiny to
have strange experiences in Cairo!

The young man was reading as we entered the
room ; but he looked up at once, for he felt that
she was there. I do not think he perceived me.

280 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

''My darling," he said, aloud, ''I have seen the
Pyramids 1"

She placed her hand upon his forehead, and
he closed his eyes, the better to see her.

Then his hand moved to the table, he opened
his eyes again, and took up paper and pencil. I
saw her guide his hand, which wrote :

"I have brought a friend with me. Can you
see him?"

"No."

The man spoke aloud, she communicating
through the pencil in his hand and by his interior
perception of her.

"Then never mind," she wrote; "he is not an
egotist. I only wanted him to see you. I have
told him how happy I am — and now he sees why."

"This journey of mine is an unalloyed delight,"
the man said.

"That is because I am with you," she replied.

"Were you with me at the Pyramids to-day?"

"Yes, though I cannot see very well in the sun-
shine. I have been there, however, and have seen
them- by moonlight. But where are you going
from here?"

"Where do you want me to go?"

"Up the Nile, to Assouan."

"I will go. When shall I start?"

A HAPPY WIDOWER 28 1

"The day after to-morrow. And now au re-
voir, my love. I will return by and by."

A moment later we were outside— she and I —
in the soft starlight of an Egyptian evening,

"Did I not tell you the truth?" she demanded,
with a little laugh of triumph.

"But have you no desire to go on in the spir-
itual world?" I asked.

"Is there anything more spiritual than love?"
she asked in return. "Is not love the fulfilling of
the Law?"

"But," I said, "I recently wrote a letter to the
men and women of the earth, advising those who
should come out here to get away from the earth
as soon as possible."

"Lovers like me will not take your advice," she
answered, with a smile. "And tell me now: Is
it not better for Henry to enjoy my society in the
long evenings— is it not better for him to be
happy than to grieve for me?"

"But at first? Was he not inconsolable at your
going out?"

"Yes, until I came to him. He was sitting one
night in deep dejection, and I reached for his
hand, and wrote with it; *I am here, Speak to
me.* *My Love!' he cried, his face alight, *are
you really there?' *Yes, I am here, and I shall

282 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

come to you every day until you come out to me,*
I answered, through the pendl.

"He had never known that he was what you
call a Vriting medium.' He would never have
been but for my presence in a form of matter dif-
ferent from his own.

"Come now, my friend," she added, "would
you really advise me not to visit Harry any
more ?"

"There are said to be exceptions to all rules," I
answered. "At this moment you seem to me to
be one of those exceptions."

"And will you add a postscript to your recent
letter to the world?"

"If I can," I said, "I will tell your story. My
readers can draw their own conclusions."

"Thank you," was her answer.

"But," I added, "when Henry comes out here
in his turn, you two together should go away from
the world."

"Have you been away from the world then?"

"To some extent. I am only stopping here now
until a certain work is finished."

"And then where are you going?"

"To visit other planets."

"Henry and I will do that, too, when he comes

out."

A HAPPY WIDOWER 283'

Now, my friend, I tell you this story for what-
ever it is worth. There are cases like hers, where
an earthly tie is all-compelling. But in the case of
most persons I stand by my original assertion and
my original advice.

LETTER LIII

THE ARCHIVES OF THE SOUL

I HAVE Spoken of a determination to visit
other planets when my work of writing these
letters is ended ; but I must not neglect to say that
I consider such journeys to and fro in the universe
of far less spiritual value than those other jour-
neys which I have made and shall make into the
deep places of my own self. Travelling in actual
space and time is important to a man, that he
may gain knowledge of other lands and peoples,
see the differences between these peoples and him-
self, and learn the causes thereof; yet quiet medi-
tation is even a greater factor in growth. If a
man whose spiritual perceptions are open can do
but one of these two things, it would be better for
him to sit in a cabin in the backwoods and seek in
his own soul for the secrets which it guards, than
to travel without such self-examination to the
ends of the earth.

Get acquainted with your own soul. Know why

284

THE ARCHIVES OF THE SOUL 285

you do this or that, why you feel this or that. Sit
quietly when in doubt about any matter, and let
the truth rise from the deeps of yourself. Ex-
amine your motives always. Do not say, "I ought
to do this act for such and such a reason; there-
fore I do it for that reason." Such argument is
self-deception. If you do a kind act, ask yourself
why. Perhaps you can find even in a kind action
a hidden motive of self-seeking. If you should
find such a motive, do not deny it to yourself. Ac-
knowledge it to yourself, though you need not
advertise it on the walls of your dwelling. Such
a secret understanding will give you a greater
sympathy and comprehension in judging the mo-
tives of others.

Strive always for the ideal; but do not label
every emotion as an ideal emotion if it is not
really that. Speak the truth to yourself. Until
you can dare to do that you will make little pro-
gress in the quest of your own soul.

Between earth lives is a good time to meditate,
but one should form the habit of meditation while
in the flesh. Habits formed in the flesh have a
tendency to continue after the flesh is laid aside.
That is a reason why one should keep as free as
possible from physical habits.

If my charming acquaintance who comes every

286 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

night to her husband to write love messages
through his hand would spend the greater part of
her time in acquiring knowledge of this new
world, so that she could enlighten him, then might
their communion be an unmixed good; but I fear
it is not so. Therefore I shall look for her again,
and give her some fatherly advice. She has a
quick and receptive mind, and I think she will lis-
ten to me. He would be interested in her experi-
ences, if for no other reason than because they are
hers. Yes, I shall have to find her again.

I have made wonderful discoveries in the
archives of my own soul. There I have found
the memories of all my past, back to a time almost
unbelievably distant. In seeing how the causes
set up in one life have produced their effects in
another life, I have learned more than I shall
learn on my coming tour of the planets.

Everything exists in the soul; all knowledge is
there. Grasp that idea if you can. Tlie infallible
part of us is the hidden part, and it is for us to
bring it to light. Do you understand now why I
advise the disembodied to break away from the
distractions and the dazzling mirages of the
earthly life? Only in the stillness of detachment
can the soul yield up her secrets. It is not that I
am indifferent to earthly loves ; on the contrary, I

THE ARCHIVES OF THE SOUL 287

love more deeply than ever all those whom I
loved on earth; but I realise that if I can love
them wisely instead of unwisely, it will be better
both for them and for me.

Yet the call of the earth is loud sometimes, and
my heart answers from this side of the veil.

LETTER LIV

A FORMULA FOR MASTERSHIP

MY friendi I am going to leave you for a
while--perhaps for a long time.

It seems to me that my inmiediate work with
the earth is done. I want still further to lighten
my load, to soar out upon the waves of ether —
far — far — and to forget, in the thrill of explora-
tion, that I shall some day have to make my way
painfully back to the world through the narrow
straits of birth.

I am going out with the Beautiful Being on a
voyage of discovery. My companion has taken
this journey before, and can show me the way to
many wonders.

There is a sadness in bidding you good-bye. Do
you remember the last time you saw me in my old
body? We neither of us thought that afternoon
that we should next meet in a foreign country, and
under conditions so strange that half the world
will doubt that we have ever met again at all, and
the other half will wonder if indeed we have
really met.

288

A FORMULA FOR MASTERSHIP 289

Tell me, was I ever more real to you than I am
this evening? While sitting with me in the days
of the past, did you ever know less of what I
should say a moment afterwards than you know
now? Rack your brain as you will, you cannot
tell what I am going to talk about. That will
prove to you, at least, that I am as real as ever.

I want to leave a few messages. Tell ....
And tell . . • . And some day tell my boy to
live a brave and clean life. He will be watched
over. Tell him that if sometimes he feels the in-
terior guidance, not to be afraid to trust it. Tell
him to look within for light.

For the present, I have not much more to say
to the world at large. But I want you to publish
these letters, leaving out only the very personal
paragraphs.

Yes, I may not see you again for a long time.
Do not be sad. When I am gone, perhaps an-
other will come.

Do not close the door too tight; but guard well
the door, and let no one enter who has not the
signs and passwords. You will not be deceived;
I have trained you to that end.

I cannot write much to-night, for there is a sad-
ness in leaving the earth. But I am — or shall be
— all a-thrill with the interest of the coming voy-

290 LETTERS FROM A LIVING DEAD MAN

age. Think of it I I shall see far-away planets
and meet their inhabitants. Shall I find the
*'square-f aced men" ? Perhaps so.

In Jupiter, they say, there is a race of beings
wonderful to behold. I shall see them. Will they
be fairer than our own Beautiful Being, who loves
the little earth and usually stays near it, because
there are such struggles here?

The jay of the struggle I That is the keynote
of inunortality, the keynote of power. Let this
be my final message to the world. 1 ell them to
enjoy their struggles, to thrill at the endless possi-
bilities of combination and creation, to live in the
moment while preparing for long hence, and not
to exaggerate the importance of momentary fail-
ures and disappointments.

When they come out here and get their lives in
perspective, they will see that most of their causes
of anxiety were trivial, and that all the lights and
shadows were necessary to the picture.

I had my lights and shadows, too, but I regret
nothing. The Master enjoys difficulties as a
swimmer enjoys the resistance of the water.

If I could make you realise the power that
comes from facing the struggle — not only bravely,
as all the platitudinous bores will tell you, but
facing it with enjoyment. Why, any healthy boy

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